The book I've been writing since I found out I was going to be a dad by Tobias Robbins

 

https://bookswelove.net/robbins-tobias/

Since I first found out I was going to be a dad, I have been writing a book to my daughter. I am going to give it to her when she is older. This is the chapter concerning her birth. 

 

April 19th, 2014. 11:30 p.m

    Your mother's water broke a few hours ago. We were with the rest of the family at Aunt Becky’s hiding Easter eggs and playing board games. It wasn't even noticeable like in the movies. We headed to the hospital just in case. Now your mother is lying in the electronic reclining bed beside me, texting everyone she knows. I am writing this to you on the back of a printed copy of a poem from my collection. You are slowly pushing your way out of your mother’s uterus. We will be a family in a few more hours. I should have known you would be born on Easter Sunday - the symbols of life and natural creation are implied but its more than that. I was told. The doctor said you were due last Sunday and while on a short walk, we found a tiny bird egg. It was about the size of a quarter, light blue, and had speckles on it. I have gone on countless walks in and out of animal habitats and never seen a bird egg. I am not an expert but I think it was a robin’s egg. I knew then that you would be born on Easter. Your mother’s contractions are getting worse now but it's still bearable. Your grandma Sue should be here soon to do her best to alleviate any stress she can for your mom.

April 20th, 2:00 a.m.

    Though I am notorious for panicking in stressful situations I feel surprisingly calm- maybe it doesn't seem real yet. Soon the fluids will spill and the screams should start. Probably then my anxiety will rise. But I’m not a doctor. I’m not Mother Nature. This process is utterly out of my zone of control. All I can mitigate are my own responses to stimuli. While we wait for you to arrive I am reading a book called Kabuki, the Alchemy. In it, the protagonist says "If you are faced with a certain challenge perhaps it is the universe’s way of trying to show you something. You ask yourself, 'What am I meant to learn from this? How is this meant to push me in the right direction?’ " I'd happily take this pain from your mother. Pain and I are casual acquaintances. But chaos? Oh god no! Birth is chaos at its most primitive. It’s all out of my hands, I must accept my helplessness in this situation and let fate use me as it sees fit.

April 20th, 4:30 a.m.

    Your mother has never felt pain. Not real pain. Till now. No stitches, contusions or broken bones. To her credit, she tried her best to avoid drugs during the labor, but couldn't handle it. I wouldn’t have lasted as long as she did. Imagine the worst pain you can; that feeling in your mind's eye is just a shadow of the real pain of labor. A doctor gave her some drugs to numb her and I have no doubt it is worth the astronomical price he is charging.

April 20th, 6:15 a.m.

    The sun rises gold out the giant hospital window as I watch numbers flash on a monitor by your mother’s bed. 135, 60, 101. I have no idea what these numbers are. They equal the sum of your life plus your mother's. If these numbers are reduced to zero then a life will be subtracted. I have never been much for math. I try to ignore the indiscernible digits blinking on the screen and leave my stress there plugged into the wall. Let science worry. Let technology do the hard calculations. My job is simple: love your mother. Mine is the arithmetic of the soul.

April 20th, 7:45 a.m.

    We’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours, and now the hard part is about to begin. Your mother is working her damnedest to push you out into this world. So much effort for such a tiny thing. All the pain, the money, the planning. Every single day for nine months has led to this. I am here, your grandmother is here, and several medical professionals are here. But this is something you and your mother have to do on your own.

April 20th, 9:10 a.m.

    Done. Over with. Here you are. Your mom pushed you out with no problems. You have thick black hair and dark brown eyes. As you suckled for the first time I read you poetry. Now, if you will let me, I will get some sleep. Happy birthday.

 

My book, The Remnants of Pryr, comes out this winter. 

When one of the ancient founders of Pryr returns after a long exile and claims the world will end, the nations must adapt and learn to work together. If not, the Breath of Ruination will bring about a world-ending catastrophe. The kaleidoscopic cast, including gods, assassins, poets, and scientists, provides interlocking accounts in this geo-political drama that dates back to the founding of civilization.