Vincent 'read more'

Lucky Little

A Pursuit on Purpose

1999 Baby continued...

“Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Oh God…it hurts! Bobby, it hurts, I can’t take it! Bobby!!.” Sonya’s crying out. She was doubled over in pain, excruciating pain. The doctor and nurse kept telling her it was gas. I know Sonya and she’s a lot tougher than that. Her mom is full blooded Mexican and her dad is full blooded Norwegian, hot and cold, no in between. She either loves me passionately or wants to kill me with a giant hammer. This ain’t no gas pains, my baby is dying here. You’ve got to figure this out doc and forget about your damn gas medicine. “Bobby!! What’s happening? What’s going on with my baby”! For the 6 months leading up to this day we had been talking to her stomach every day. Talking, singing, reading stories, speaking simple phrases in Spanish and Italian, telling jokes, laughing. Giving him instructions on how to grow strong and wise even now while he is still on’ the inside’. A most pleasurable confinement for the baby. We knew at just 18 weeks he could already hear our voices and the sounds of the world outside his perfect nest. He was alive and we were starting early to raise him to be a fine young man. Being adopted myself and growing up with a brother that was adopted by another family, this would be my first blood. Things would be different for him. He wouldn’t have the empty hole like I had carried since I was 6 years old when I was told I was adopted. My parents showed me the little card that was handed out to their friends that read, ‘I Wasn’t Expected, I Was Selected’. I was told I was special. Sure, ‘I was selected’. Those are special words. ‘Expected’? That was a word I couldn’t really wrap my head around. ‘I wasn’t’? All that rang out of that was, ‘I wasn’t wanted’. Things would be different for Vincent. Silly as it seemed, we figured we had nine months to go ahead and start building him up to be prince, to be a king, covered in shining armor to rescue family, friend or stranger. We told him how he was so loved and wanted and he would be a world changer one day. He would be a great son. “Oh God, oh God!! Nurse! Where’s the doctor?!! Is my baby gonna be okay?”! Sonya could barely get the words out in between holding her stomach bent over like she had been punched in the gut. My ‘you don’t want to piss me off’ face was showing as I said, “You gotta do something here doc! What the hell is going on? You need to do something here damnit, now!!” It would be another week before the doctor figured it out. It was close to midnight and I was rehearsing with my band when I got the call from Sonya’s mom. “They’re taking her to the hospital Bobby”. I can here Rose’s voice now like it was yesterday. “It’s something with her liver, it’s not good, not good for her or the baby, she has to have the baby now or they could both…”. I’m numb. It’s only been 6 months. His due date is like 3 months away. June, July, August I’m thinking to myself. Within minutes I’m driving to the hospital. I’m numb but my mind is trying to put things in order. Keep cool. Think Bobby think. I think about the pizza I put in the oven to cook for nine minutes. If I take it out in 6 it’s not near ready. It’s not ready at all. I cry out in my mind, “God help me. God help us. My wife God, my son! Oh God, oh God please help them! Please God”!