The following is a true story. Well, most of it. As far as I remember. Which isn't much.
It was a dark and stormy night in Saint Peters, Missouri. My wife was in pain and I had been working on my math homework and preparing for my finals. A sigh escaped me as my wife called my name to come into the bedroom, as she had done several times in the last couple of weeks due to false alarms. She wanted this baby out, and would stop at nothing to get her out as early, yet healthy, as possible. Earlier that day, Staci decided to test out an old wives tale that spicy food can coax contractions, so we joined a friend in a visit to Buffalo Wild Wings. Afterward, with my mouth still leaving flaming bits behind me everywhere I went, we continued to the mall to walk around; another art said to induce birth. After we were done, we noticed something wicked was coming our way.
Fast forward to me driving to the hospital with tornado sirens blaring all around us and the weather giving good reason to warning. The sky was dark with a brooding anger desperate to let loose it's wild whiplash of energy, all the while we were flying down the highway in our little white car. When we got to the hospital, I dropped Staci off in the front and I had to park the car in the parking lot of a church across the street so I could get inside as quick as possible. The sirens cried out so loud I had to cover my ears as I rushed to the front entrance of the hospital. Once inside, I made my way to the floor with which I was already well acquainted with due to the many trips we had made previously.
We settled in for the night, but settling was the last thing on my mind. Outside, the winds were becoming exceedingly fierce, cropping up to about 80 mph around our area. An EF4 tornado had formed about 5 miles away from our current position. I stared out the window of our room to see what it was like. I had instantly regretted this when I could hardly make out the street light a few yards away in the back alley that our window was over. The winds blew harder and harder and it seemed all lights outside had vanished into darkness, covered by the wind, hail and rain pounding away at the earth. I had returned to my "daddy bed" only to be up a few minutes later to check on what seemed to be our impending doom. I tried as hard as I could to describe the chaotic mayhem to my dear, bed-ridden Staci. Naturally, she couldn't care less.
After an hour or so, the wind died down and St. Charles Main Street looked like nothing had ever happened to it. The lights hadn't vanished forever, the buildings hadn't been eaten up by a ravenous monster from the sky, and the river wasn't spilling into the streets and carrying cars like they were toys. Instead, Staci could have said I was lying and that I had no proof that there was a terrible tornado ripping a new anus into the land just miles from us. But I later found out that I had proof. I had learned that the tornado had ripped apart Lambert Airport. This would later be known as the "Good Friday Tornado" and gain national media attention. I fell asleep that night, but only just barely.
As 2 AM came around, Staci woke me up to use the restroom, and since she had so many wires attached to her that she looked like Dr. Octopus, she required my assistance. After business time was over, she returned to the bed, but she stopped mid-climb and her back straightened up like someone had slapped her behind. She looked over at me with her droopy, drugged out eyes and I noticed there was a hint of fear in them.
“I don't think I was done,” she said with a tired tremble in her voice. I stared at her quizzically and got up to help her finish her business. She waved her hand at me, motioning me to come faster before it was too late. Unfortunately, my grogginess dulled my cat-like reflexes and she again motioned her hand, but it was for me to stop. I was too late. Still, she made her way to the throne just to make sure there wasn't more coming. It was right at this moment that the nurse came in, whether of her own accord or by Staci's paging her, I didn't know or care. It was the news of the mess that changed the whole rest of the night. She informed us that what had come out of my wife was not accident, but that her water had broke and she was not allowed to be on the toilet. We got her back into bed after the fresh sheets were put on and the nurse checked her dilation to see how “things” were going. She was still a long way from being ready, being at 2 cm (a long ways from the 10 cm needed), so I retired to my awkward futon in an attempt to conquer my tiredness. Sleep was not my friend this night.
I had been woken up by the nurses coming in to do their oddly-timed check ups, and each time Staci was still only dilated at 2 cm. This happened several times until about 7am, when she jumped up to a whopping 3 cm! I was so excited, that I went back to sleep. A few hours later (or a few minutes in dreamland standard time), I am again woken up, except now I was getting aggravated at the nurses lack of subtlety, so I decided to ignore the world. It was at this point that it seemed that everyone was shouting at me to get up. I sat up and retorted, “She was just at 3 cm a few minutes ago!” The nurse then told me that they gave her medicine to speed up the process. And oh boy, did it ever. She was now at 9 cm and moments away from pushing.
Adrenaline kicked in and I popped myself out of bed and ninja'd my way through the computers and wires to my wife's side. I looked at her with a beaming smile and she looked right back at me with a face of pain and a slight loathing that I did this to her. The doctor suddenly appeared by my side at the foot of the bed and commenced in giving me directions on how to help her push. Right afterward, the pushing started. I grabbed Staci's leg and did my best to push when they told me to.
After about 15 minutes of pushing and icky things, baby came out with a plop! She cried and cried, hating us for evicting her from her cozy, one-room studio apartment she was renting inside her mommy. And right at that moment, I realized that had become a daddy to a living, breathing girl that weighed 6lbs 2oz and was a little over a foot-and-a-half long.
Our little Elizabeth Josephine Jokela.
