The Scare and The Hat

Writer Keith

This past Monday, I woke up a wreck. I was sweating worse than Patrick Ewing in the 4th quarter. I was sick as a dog. I would have called in sick to work, but it was too late, so I toughed it out. My wife even offered to drive me to work. I made it on my own, but I did manage to boot up most of my last meal in the parking lot.

Thanks to the blog, I've got a Chia Pet and a baby bouncer. Here's the hat that is keeping me sane.

So after working my shift, I came home and downed a bottle of NyQuil. I was knocked out for about 7 hours. When I woke up, I was feeling a bit better, but something alarming. I had 8 missed calls on my cell phone. They were from my 6 months pregnant wife from the doctors office. She had to make an emergency visit to see if she had gone into pre-mature labor.

It came at a time when it was just setting in that this whole pregnancy was for real. We took a tour of our hospital and basically went through a dry run of the whole delivery. Compared to the hospital that we originally went to, it was a huge improvement, like getting upgraded to a four-star hotel when you had planned to go to one of those hourly-rate places.

We were also starting to price a bigger family car. My current car was ok, but it wasn't for a family. We have upgraded to what I glowingly refer to as "The Family Truckster."

So I finally got a hold of my wife. The details at first were sketchy. They had done tests to see if she was actually going to have the baby months too early. She told me she was on the way home to tell me more. I panicked. I went on the internet to get some info on pre-mature births. I found out it happens in 1 in 10 pregnancies. I also learned that the earlier that a child is born pre-mature, the more problems a baby has. We were at 27 weeks. Not a good sign.

I will be honest with you. I started crying my eyes out. I was fearing the worst. It had just hit me that this was real, and it went from real into real real. My wife came home and found me blubbering. She had to console me even though she was carrying our daughter. We had to wait about 24 hours for results to tell us what was going on.

But then I got the hat. My godparents Donnie and Maria (a huge Morning Express fan) had sent me that day an infant Boston Red Sox bucket hat complete with my daughter's soon-to-be best friend "Wally The Green Monster." I wiped away my tears and thought positive. My little girl was going to fit into this hat when she is born hopefully at full term.

Thankfully, after tests, it just turns out that my wife was cramping up because of probable dehydration. Everything looks fine. But I am still scared to death. Who knows what is going to happen in the next couple of months. So that's why I take the hat with me everywhere. It gives me hope. It makes me think positive thoughts. The first time I put my girl to bed, the first time we go to Fenway Park, the first time I disapprove of a boyfriend, the first time she holds my hand, makes me laugh, makes me cry, makes me crazy, makes me proud. I just pray she makes it through as a healthy child.