Love At First Sight

The first people I loved were my parents.  I believe that’s probably true of most people.  Over time I learned to love my two sisters, as much as a pain in the rear that I found them.  It may have been automatic, but I don’t remember it that way. I expect that’s the path of most brothers and sisters.

As I got older, I fell in and out of love a few times.  I had several girlfriends until I found the girl I chose to marry.  All of those relationships began with an attraction that grew over time.  I never experienced “love at first sight”, and though I did believe in “lust at first sight”, I didn’t feel that way about love.

Forty-three years ago today, March 30, 1975, that all changed.  Our first child, David, was born on Easter Sunday at 10:07 p.m.   The moment I saw him, I loved him.

When Ruth and I first found out that she was pregnant, we started to study and explore what we should anticipate.  We knew that being a parent was serious business and we wanted to do all we could ahead of time to be prepared for the arrival of our first child.   We didn’t tell anyone we were “expecting” until we were several weeks along in the “expecting” process.  We felt it best to keep to ourselves until we were “ready” to share our news.  Our lives were about the change.   We were happy, but unwilling to have others join us until we wanted them to.

We discussed names, living arrangements, made sure that Ruth did all the right things regarding her health, and listened to Ruth’s Aunt Casey (head nurse for the delivery room at Kalamazoo’s Bronson Hospital) for “birthing” advice.   Fathers taking part and witnessing births was a relatively new concept that became the norm in the 70’s.

Ruth and I attended “expectant parent” classes.  We practiced breathing techniques (slow, light accelerated, variable, expulsion, cleansing), learned physical positions to assist with the birth, and what to expect throughout the delivery. We discussed breast vs. bottle feeding.  We learned the pros and cons of cloth diapers vs disposable, the various types of formulas, and the purpose of an Apgar score (appearance, pulse, grimace, activity, respiration).   We knew that scores of 7, 8, and 9 were good and that 10 seldom, if ever, happens.  Most importantly, we learned that when the “water breaks” you better get moving, because after all of our preparation and study (in the words of Butterfly McQueen), “we didn’t know nothin bout birthin babies.”

We were getting ready to drive to Plainwell to have Easter dinner with Ruth’s parents when our plans changed.   We drove instead to Bronson Hospital.  We arrived shortly before 1:00 and our doctor joined us about an hour later.   After examining Ruth, he headed back to his Easter dinner and told me that I might as well go out to eat as our baby’s birth is “going to be awhile”.  I stayed and left for my last meal as a childless man around 6:00.

When I was with Ruth, I did what I could to help her, but all of the breathing techniques and positional advice got thrown out the window when the serious contractions began. We didn’t know if our child was a boy or a girl until at 10:07 the nurse announced, “It’s a boy.”  Ruth’s reply was simple and heartfelt.   “My dad is going to be so happy.”  (Lou had three daughters and two granddaughters.  He finally had a boy in his life.)

David Anthony checked in with an Apgar score of 8.  The remaining numbers were:  8 pounds 5 ounces, 21 and half inches long.  Ruth’s diet of full packages of spinach drenched in vinegar, whole heads of lettuce with dressing each evening, and entire Bill Knapp’s chocolate cakes devoured in a single session provided the nourishment that our unborn child required.  She gained sixty pounds in nine months and dropped thirty-eight in one night.

That was the most important moment of my life.  Everything changed.  This was what “love at first sight” felt like.  How can one moment change a person’s life so profoundly in one split second?  Forty-three years have passed yet I remember that moment like it was yesterday.  It was the highest of highs.

I remained at the hospital for an hour or so, called my parents and Ruth’s parents, and because of the late hour waited to call others in the morning.  I couldn’t sleep, my heart was pounding, my entire being was bursting with joy.

In the morning, I called everyone else I knew.   While no one appeared to be as excited as me, everyone wished us well.  Ruth spent several days in the hospital (you could do that back then).   I spent many hours visiting her and holding our son.  Ruth and David came home in a few days to our house on Reycraft Street and our life as a family began.

You can do all the planning for your family that you may like, but then life happens. Things don’t always work out as planned.  Perfect isn’t always possible, but having a family with three children is the most important thing that I have ever done.  It is my greatest accomplishment.   Ruth and I raised three people who are making a difference, each in their own way.  I am one proud father.

David often thanks Ruth and me for being the man that he has become and the success he enjoys.   I’m proud to say that he has followed in my footsteps as a teacher, principal and school superintendent.  Truth be told, we’re better people because of him and his sister and brother.

Much has changed during the last forty-three years.   David has a family of his own now.   Shortly after his first-born, Brady, came along he asked, “Is it possible to love someone more than you love yourself?”  My reply was simple, “Yes, and now you know how I feel about you, Elizabeth and Michael.”

Here’s a look at David’s growth over the years.