We were in Brantford Ontario that night, ushering in the new year at the home of some good friends, enjoying a really nice meal there, and calling it quits shortly after midnight. Our plan was to sleep at my wife's parents' house that night before enjoying our traditional New Year's Day meal with them the next afternoon.
Our eldest daughter had just turned 2 and may have been with us for dinner, or she may have stayed back with her Nonna and Nonno. My guess is that she was with us, but I just don't remember that one detail. (That's because she was absolutely the best little girl on the planet and wouldn't have been crabby or loud, wouldn't have broken anything, wouldn't have drawn attention to herself in any way, and thus didn't do anything to insert herself into the story I'm in the midst of telling.)
It was probably 12:15 that we called it a night and left our friends' house. We, of course, got stopped by RIDE ("reduce impaired driving everywhere" - a drinking-and-driving spot check program in Ontario) and I, of course, had not been drinking because a) I didn't drink, and b) my wife was very, very pregnant and who knew when she might need me to drive her to the hospital. I made a clever comment to the RIDE officer - as I am wont to do - showed him my very pregnant wife, and he sent us on our way. He gave us the gift of an ice scraper.
We had just settled into the hide-a-bed in the basement just before 1:00, when my wife shot bolt-upright in bed, cursed lovingly at the universe, and declared that it was time to get the f@#$k to the hospital (those may not have been her exact words, but she screamed something like that). We woke her parents, asked them to stay with my eldest, and went off to Brantford General.
It was a very quiet night in the maternity ward. Only one other soon-to-be mother was there. She was a screamer - that I remember.
We got settled into a room and we were given the usual medications and instructions. We turned on the tv and started watching the Planet of the Apes marathon that they used to show every New Year's Eve on CITY. We could clearly hear the other woman deep in her labour as we attempted to enjoy our movie. At some point, my wife told me that she wanted to go for a walk to help with the labour and I told her that she could before realizing that she wanted me to go with her. I reluctantly turned off the movie and off we sauntered.
It was then that I realized it was New Year's Eve, the hospital was mostly empty, and the only other patient was still giving birth. WE HAD A SHOT AT DELIVERING BRANTFORD'S FIRST 1995 BABY!!!
I turned to my wife and enthusiastically shared my insight, gently encouraging her to get serious and hurry up with the whole birthing thing. And she did.
We were soon in the delivery room. The other lady was very close to finished, judging from her increasingly frequent screams and whimpers. I held my wife's hand and whispered words of encouragement: "We can win this thing, but the other lady's really close. You don't want to lose to her, do you? Think of the prizes! Think of the glory! We'll probably be in the paper! You can do this but you have to hurry. You're not some kind of princess who's going to lie there and take pain medicine and wait it out, right? Push like you mean it. PUSH!" (and other inspirational and loving words like that).
Bam! The kid shot out of her and we suddenly had a second daughter (notice I didn't say "beautiful", because I remember clearly that she wasn't - not yet). More importantly, we had won! We had come from far behind and defeated our opponent! Sure, my wife had done most of the work, but let's face it, she couldn't have achieved the victory without my key contributions as coach and mentor.
I remember the nurses and doctors telling us we had just given birth to Brantford's 1995 New Year's Baby (thinking that we didn't know) and congratulating us. I remember asking if we could go back to the room and keep watching Planet of the Apes.
Later that day, the proud sister, proud grandparents (from both sides), and (I believe) some proud uncles and aunts all got a chance to meet the newest addition to our family. I will never forget my mother taking one glance at her newest grand-daughter and saying "Uh oh, you guys are in trouble with this one."
She had put words to what everyone else had already seen but not verbalized: this tiny little girl's eyes shone with zest and passion and intelligence and humour, and more than just a hint of mischief.
Think about it: She'd chosen the splashiest night/day of the year to arrive. She'd gotten Mommy and Daddy to bend to her will despite their exhaustion, then - later - despite their desire to enjoy a good movie. And she'd beaten off the competition to come first. Sound like anyone you know?
We did get a headline in the Brantford paper but shared the spotlight with the runners-up because we weren't locals. We also got half of the prizes owed to The New Year's Baby (only half, for the same reason). But most importantly, we got a beautiful, strong, charming, smart, passionate, loving, AND HIGHLY COMPETITIVE addition to our young family.
She'll be 21 tonight. While all the rest of you are toasting 2016, we'll be singing "Happy Birthday" and thanking the universe for blessing us with this amazing person all those years ago.
(PS - I didn't say anything about the prizes we received that day because I didn't want to insult the City of Brantford. I'll just say that they weren't nearly as good as the RIDE ice scraper.)
