Life of a father....

The following is an excerpt of a book I plan to write with my friend KC.

Ok, this ain’t exactly my first rodeo. I knew what to expect going in… yet I still can’t help but be amazed. As you know, we’ve been in the hospital since Saturday night. I won’t say what hospital, because that’s not important… I have a feeling it would be the same at all of them. Anyway, since Saturday night, we have had some great nurses helping us. They were very nice and attentive to Jennifer (and later, Susie)… yet none of them knew I was there. It’s like I was invisible. They asked Jennifer if she needed anything… wanted anything… like they were her best friend and would do anything in the world for her. Didn’t even look at me. Let’s be honest here, it’s not like that cup of ice water is coming out of their paycheck. I’m pretty sure we’re paying for it in the end… so would it kill them to ask me if I wanted anything? Hey, I get it… I’m not the one having the baby, but still.

Like I said, I’ve been around so I knew what to expect… but what about others? I’m married to The Wife, so I’m going to gut it out regardless… but what about boyfriend trying to do the right thing and be there for his baby’s momma? He gets treated the way I was and it’s so long. From the very beginning the hospital makes it clear that the father is not needed. Yet people are shocked with all the deadbeat dads in the world.

And don’t even get me started on the sleeping arrangements. The first night I had a chair that folds out into a bed. At least, that’s what they wanted me to think. First off, the “bed” it folds into was designed for your average size 1st grader and I’m sure has a weight limit I passed many moons ago. It also had the texture of a burlap sack. And The Wife had to ask multiple times for them to bring me a pillow and a sheet (maybe they were thinking I’d just leave if they didn’t bring me anything). The chair last night wasn’t much better. It doesn’t even lay flat and it feels like maybe I took the vinyl off the side of my house and decided to cover my chair with it. I really think they got these chairs from POW camps that the Red Cross has visited throughout the years. They’d get laughed at if they tried to donate these things to Goodwill.

And what’s with me having to do so much at the hospital? Listen, I’m pretty sure I’m going to end up paying for all of this stuff… so why don’t they do a little something? I can’t tell you how many times The Wife wanted me to do something and I told her to push that little button on her bed to get the nurse in here. Hey, none of these people pay me to come to my workplace and do my job.

Fear not! I have a feeling things are about to change. I’m sure when it’s time for us to leave, the hospital will act like we’ve been the best of friends and they’ll know exactly who I am. After all, they’ll want some money from me.