I LOVE golf. There is something very therapeutic about beating the hell out of that little white ball. I haven't played in 10 years as of today. The last time I hit a golf ball was at a driving range in N.J. Since then I haven't had any time for it. I bought the large bucket of balls, because I really needed to get some aggression out. I was smacking the fuckers every which way but straight. My beloved was sitting on a bench reading the National Enquirer. Our conversation went something like this.
The Wife: "This baby is coming."
Trashman: " Shut-up and read your rag."
The Wife: "I'm just saying this baby is coming."
Trashman: "Yeah, you've been saying that for a month and a half. That baby aint never being born."
That was on a Friday night. Saturday morning was whole different story.
This is the part where we go farther back in time. The story I'm about to tell is true, you may not believe it. Sometimes I don't think I believe it. If I had not been there I would say it was pure bullshit. I was there, I know what happened. It's not rational, logical, or as far as I know medically possible. BUT IT HAPPENED.
The Wife went for the ultrasound by herself due to the fact my prick boss wouldn't let me take any time off. During the procedure the intern left the room and brought back a doctor. His first words were "It's to late to terminate the pregnancy." This of course sent The Wife into a panic. After the hysterics were brought down to a controllable level she was informed that the baby had hydrocephalus. Now what that means is he had water on the brain and would require a shunt for drainage. It also meant he was going to be what's known as a mongoloid. She had to make an appointment to see a specialist in 10 days. After she left the hospital she came by my job and told me what was going on. I said fuck the boss and took the rest of the day off.
The next 10 days were a living hell. I blamed me, she blamed me, I blamed her, she blamed herself. There were a whole lot of arguments and crying. Here's where it gets strange. She found one of her mothers prayer cards. That's right she's a Catholic (but I don't hold it against her). This particular prayer card was for St. Therese also known as The Little Flower. Now according to Catholic mumbo jumbo if you pray to St. Therese she might answer your prayers, so The Wife prayed day and night for 10 days.
On the ninth day we went to dinner with her father. During dinner he excused himself to make a visit to the facilities. When he came back he handed Jen a yellow carnation and said "Everything will be O.K." This man never gave anyone flowers in his life, in fact once he busted my balls for sending flowers to The Wife. But, hey that was cool it made her feel better.
Now it's the 10th day. Once again I can't get off work but I was O.K. with that because I didn't want to face this doctors appointment and I figured I was going to have some very large medical bills anyway. The Wife went in to see the specialist, he lubed up the ultrasound machine, ran it across her enormous belly and said "There is nothing wrong with this baby." (Hang on to your asses it gets weirder.) The first thing The Wife did was call me and tell me the results.
Over the next few months we tried to make the best of a strange situation. We really wanted to believe the specialist but there was still that feeling of doom in the backs of our minds. We went on with life as close to normally as we could.
The Wife: "Wake up, my water broke."
Trashman: "Oh shit. Get in the car."
The ride to the hospital was relatively quick and uneventful. They wheeled The Wife right in and got everything ready. About 5 hours later she was dilated and ready, except they had to break her water (See, I told you it would get weird.). During delivery the doctor said to the nurse "The cord is wrapped around the neck, it's not tight. Give me hand here." The nurse stepped down to the business end of my wife to help the doctor. This was the following conversation.
Nurse: "I've never seen anything like that"
Doctor: "Me either. It's not possible."
Trashman (in a panic): :What's going on?"
Doctor: "Two cords and two sacks but only one baby."
Doctor: "There is a cord and an embryonic sack but no baby."
Trashman: "What's that mean?"
Nurse: "If there is a cord and sack, there has to be a baby."
Trashman: "Is the baby O.K.?"
Doctor: " Never saw anything like that."
Nurse: "Here's your beautiful baby boy."
At 1:00 pm, Trashman Jr. was born. Ten fingers, 10 toes, and a normal sized head, perfect in everyway.
Three months later The Wife and I were on the couch while Trashman Jr. took a nap. We were channel surfing when we came across a special about St. Therese. The Wife really wanted to watch it and me being the 90's kinda guy I am, I relinquished the control of the clicker. The only thing about that special I remember is when the narrator said "The way that you know that St. Therese has decided to answer your prayers is you will receive a flower from an unexpected source." Like I said her dad never gave flowers to anybody.