A year ago today my water broke. The full moon that pulled on the rising tide tugged on my waters too, and I woke up with a gush. This was it. J and I would soon meet our son. The waiting was over.
But the waiting was to continue as hours passed walking the halls of the maternity ward hoping for contractions to ramp up, waiting for our baby boy. Late that night, my mom, J, and I walked out onto the garden patio four stories above the street. The air was cool and the night was quiet. I held onto a pillar as I breathed through another contraction. Then came another, and with my mom on one side of me and my wife on the other, we swayed and breathed, basking in the glow of a pregnant moon.
Baby Genius did not come that night or the next morning. Thirty-six hours would pass between my water breaking and my son’s arrival. But what a beautiful thirty-six hours those were.