A boy of 10

I just realized that C was born in the first hour of February 8, 10 years ago. I was an old hand at labor then. I knew what to expect. The contractions came, dull aches but surprisingly regular after dinner, around seven. I told T, we have time. We put in a movie with Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon and Ed Harris. I took a shower and used the toilet, determined not to have to "go" in the hospital. At 11pm, I said, "Let's go." And we drove to Cardinal Santos Hospital.

At the hospital, people greeted me - remembering me from the year before. "Pamangkin ni Dr. A."
In the lamaze room, CNN was playing. I settled on the bed to watch. My Uncle and my obstetrician showed up.
"Everything ok?" he asked.

"Everything's great."

Feeling a little bit uncomfortable, I stood to walk around, all the while watching the TV. On my second stroll around the room, my water bag broke with a little click followed by a whoosh of hot fluid all over my legs. And then I felt C bearing down.

"Ok, let's get ready,'' my uncle said. "Tell me when you want to push, and I'll..."

"Tito, I want to push now!" I said, hoisting myself back on the lamaze bed.

And in practically no time, C was out in blub blub blubbidy blup...

By one am, we were back in the room and I was nursing him...and absolutely ravenous.

We ordered pizza.