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Preeclampsia, Fatherhood and Reflections on a First Birthday

One year ago, I unexpectedly became a father earlier than I thought I would be — my wife was due toward the end of January and the weather was looking more and more brutal every day. A few days before she gave birth, Elizabeth started complaining about really bad headaches and her doctor had her come in for some tests. It turned out that she had preeclampsia and it was preventing proper growth in the womb. The doctors were undecided whether to induce labor or not but when it became clear that the yet unnamed baby was in danger (We decided, in the spirit of Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, not to find out the gender of the baby — it was good enough for generation after generation and it was good enough for us!)

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Elvis Presley Sings the Memphis Blues

Today is Elvis Presley’s 75th birthday and instead of celebrating him, we instead must deal with our woe in missing him, and in coping with what he left behind, and we’re left this way because of his his selfishness in drug addiction.

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Ten Fifty

As he turned fifty, his life was sawed in half.

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On Turning 31

It occurred to me early on in the month that I was going to be turning thirty-one. More specifically, it occurred to me on the first day of the month because both my brother and mother called me to wish me a happy birth month. This happens to be a custom that goes back so many years that I don’t remember when it started; either that, or it is so new that I just don’t realize that it only has started within the last few years. Maybe turning thirty-one has done something to my memory.

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On Turning Thirty

I think I can pinpoint the moment the madness began. It was about six or seven years ago in my mother’s family room, and I was watching an episode of Ally McBeal. It was the episode where Ally was freaking out because she was turning thirty and she was really upset because she felt like she hadn’t accomplished a lot of the goals she had set for herself at that age.

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