The Other Birth Story


Oh, I knew what I was in for when the wife and I checked into Brookwood Medical Center. After all, I had already been privy to three other birthings of my offspring in a previous life.

For my wife, however, this was her first baby. And if you don’t know, that’s a big deal. People take babies pretty seriously.

It was an even bigger deal because, just like her momma, this baby girl was late. Real late. Six days late.

Look, it’s bad when you are six days late paying your rent. Imagine how bad it is to have a human being inside of you for six more days than you thought you would.

Anyhoo, all’s well that’s birthed well. The beautiful baby was born and all was right with the world. Baby’s good, Momma’s good, and Daddy’s good. (It should be noted that my wife has asked me to quit calling myself “Daddy” from this point forward.)

I don’t have a story regarding the birth itself (or my beaming pride surrounding lil’ Miss Sela Robinson), but I would like to brag on the hospital experience itself.

Hospital stays can be scary no matter the reason you are there. It’s difficult for a patient (or a patient’s husband) to feel comfortable what with all of the poking and prodding and whatnot. I must say, though, Brookwood Medical Center’s staff did all it could to make sure we as happy as we could be.

The rooms were spacious. The staff checked on us enough to care but not so much as to be an annoyance. The food was surprisingly great in the cafeteria. I would give the place a five-star ranking on TripAdvisor in a heartbeat.

Technically, I would deduct one half of a star for the sofa I slept on, but that is only because it was 6 feet long and I am 6-foot-5. It’s not really the hospital’s fault that I am abnormally long, though. It’s just that my skinny ankles lifelessly dangled off the end of that folded couch like some extra from The Walking Dead.

Of course, I would re-instate the half-star (and perhaps even give an unprecedented sixth star) for the toilet alone. That thing was bad ass (excuse the pun).

How can a toilet be worth so much? Well it was a dang special toilet, man.

It was like some sort of Mercedes Benz toilet or something. Heated seats. Comfortable back rest. Plenty of head room. A roomy glove compartment (not really, but there could have been one). The only thing it didn’t have was a rear view mirror—which I guess would be an awful thing for a toilet to have.

Then there was the bidet aspect of it. I am not going to lie, it was intimidating. Look, I am just a pseudo-country boy from a small town in Alabama. Having a toilet that actually flushed was good enough in my book. It never dawned on me that my toilet could have a control panel mounted to the side of the wall. Yet, there it was just to
my right.

Frankly I was nervous just reading the bidet options at first. There was a button for a “Dryer,” “Front Soak,” “Rear Soak Soft,” “Rear Soak Normal,” and finally
“Prison Initiation”.

OK, there was no “Prison Initiation” button, but that first “Rear Soak Normal” can be a shock to the ole system if you aren’t prepared.

“Front Soak” seemed harmless enough, although there was some guilt in telling the wife I had tried it. I really felt bad after I offered it a cigarette and asked when I could see it again. (Just kidding! You can’t even smoke in the hospital, geez.)

Anyhoo, we eventually took our baby home, and none of us have slept since. Here’s the “bottom” line: Like a Coriolis Effect Carnival, our birth experience was great all the way around.


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