Saturday, October 11, 2008

2. In the Beginning...

You ever hear a story in the news about a woman who gave birth in the bath tub or ladies room, and claimed she didn't know she was pregnant? Well, gather 'round, children, and let me tell ya a tale...

Debbie and I were together for ten years before we got married. So what brought about the change after so many years? I finally knocked her up.

I was working as a systems manager for an advertising company called RY&P Moss. It was April 1, 1995. How appropriate. For some weeks now, Debbie had been getting comments about how she might be in the family way. But she never looked obviously pregnant. Now, she was a "Reubenesque" woman (I like it like that!) and this may have been a factor too. But just ride this pony with me...

Debbie had been under treatment for epilepsy for quite some time. She had had several seizures at Continental Insurance where she worked, and actually lost her job because of it. Anyhoooo, the medicine she was being treated with was Dilantin. Now, we did not think she was pregnant. We thought she was suffering from side effects of the medication. So she goes on WebMD and she gets a list of Dilantin side effects that can mimic pregnancy. Lets go down the list:

Pregnancy: Morning Sickness — Dilantin: Nausea. Check
Pregnancy: Bloating — Dilantin: Retention of Water. Check
Pregnancy: Missing Period — Dilantin: Interference with the Menstrual Cycle. Check

Et Cetera, Ad Infinitum.

So we go on thinking she's not pregnant, that it's the medicine screwing with her. One day she feels a rumbly in her belly. She's thinking it's an ulcer. One of the side effects of Dilantin could be GI problems. So she makes an appointment for an endoscopy, where they insert a camera down your throat to view the inside of your stomach. When she gets there, she is given some preliminary tests. One of the tests is a pregnancy test. She comes up positive. No worries mate; one of the side effects of Dilantin is a false positive on a pregnancy test! So the GI guy tells her, "Look, you're obviously not pregnant. Just take this form to the Sonogram office, they'll check you and certify you're not pregnant, and we can do the procedure." So the sonogram guys checks her out, and says to her, "Okay. You're pregnant!"

I'm blissfully ignorant of all this while I'm at work trying to convince Harvey to work off the server so that all files would be backed up and updated. I get a phone call from Debbie.

"Hi, Sweetie! How'd it go?"

"Nori, I'm pregnant."

"Hummana-hummana-hummana... OK, how far along are you?"

Now keep this in mind. I'm a hippie. I had no money at the time, my tiny apartment in Soho, and no plans to marry, have child or anything close to that! So when asked how far along she was, I was expecting to hear 2, 3, maybe 6 months, TOPS! Let's get back to the action:

"OK, how far along are you?"

"Eight months."

EIGHT MONTHS!!! WHAT THE FUCK!? ¿¡QUE CARAJO COMO VA' SER!? You're gonna be a daddy! When? Tuesday! HOLY SHIT!

Now I'm standing there trembling, crying and laughing like a madman. I am in great joy and abject terror at the same time. My knees turn to jelly, and I almost collapse. Hilda, the receptionist, actually has to catch me and hold me steady.

"¿Que pasó?"

"Debbie's pregnant!"

"Congratulations! When is the baby due?"

"FOUR WEEKS!"

Ay, Dios, mio!"

I'm a quivering mess as Hilda carefully guides me through the office to the back conference room for privacy. I'm babbling, crying, laughing like a nut as people ask what's wrong. "SHH! He just found out he's going to be a father!" I barely make it to a chair. What am I going to do? I have no money to raise a family, no crib, nothing! People come in to congratulate me as I'm trying to fight off a stroke. FOUR WEEKS! Frogs take more time to reproduce! The vice president of the company hears the news, and comes into the conference room. He says, "I was saving this for a special occasion, but it looks like you need this more than I do!" He puts a bottle of 12-year-old Swedish Vodka and a dixie cup in front of me, and I proceed to completely polish that thing off. We always kept that bottle as a keepsake remembrance; I'm looking at it right now.

I called my mother in Puerto Rico. "Mami, your gonna be a grandmother!" "Really? When?" "What time you got?"

We got married on April 14, 1995. Otilio Elías William Colón Lomax, a.k.a. Tito, was born April 20, 1995, one week early.

Two years later, I get a phone call from Debbie.

"Nori, I'm pregnant!"

"Deb, I need more than four weeks notice!"

"I'm two months pregnant."

"HALLELUJAH! THIS, I CAN HANDLE!"

"You're not angry?"

"Angry? I'm ecstatic! I got months instead of hours to get ready!"

So entered Ramiro Norberto Andrés Colón Lomax, a.k.a. Miro.


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