Here is a picture of my neighbor Suzanne and me (and a massive piece of Mani’s carrot cake) at T-Bone’s party. Three days later, after a confident assurance from her doctor that she was not- no way, no how- going into early labor with her twins, her noble husband Greg left to argue a voting rights case in San Francisco. You guessed correctly. Five AM Wednesday morning I get a call from Suzanne and run across the street to help her change her now-wet socks and drive her to Cedars.
Scott’s comment: “She wants YOU to drive her to the hospital?” He’s such a dick about my driving.
I got her there safely, with only a few questionable red light scenarios. The midwife met us on the third floor and the three of us hung out while a couple of tiny beings got ready to swim out into the morning light. The labor progressed quickly and I was all suited up and ready to go into the operating room with her when her husband came running down the hall, pulling off his tie. I passed the torch and their daughter was born about four minutes later, followed shortly by her brother. They were tiny and perfect and able to go home the next day. So dramatic. If you wrote this stuff, it would be corny. As it was, it was awesome. I was honored.