The phone rang at 3:30am on July 26th. The caller ID said it was my sister. After about 5 seconds of staring at the cellphone in agony - the agony of a disturbed slumber - a lightbulb went off in my head and I knew what that call was about. My sister was in the hospital, awaiting labor, four weeks too early. Sleep was then just a distant memory. After about 30 mins of vain attempts at rational thinking, I decided couldn't talk myself out of driving down.
A hurried breakfast, shower, and packing later, I found myself on the QEW at 6am. At 9:15am, somewhere in at a rest stop in PA, my mom called sounding more confused than ever. The event she spent the last 2 months planning for had just happened - and she wasn't there! Oh - the tussle between disappointment and joy!
At 11:15am I finally made it to the hospital. He was lying on his side in the incubator. The most precious little thing I've ever seen. I realized this is the closest I'd ever come to having my own child. I secretly conferred on myself the status of parent #3. I watched him take his first drop of food. I watched him open his eyes and take in the world. I took his first pictures.
The next week was an excercise in adaptation and perseverence. We were getting used to him - he was getting used to the world. By day 4, he didn't care for it too much, insisting on the comfort of a human cradle all day long.
By day 7 it was time for me to say goodbye and return to my world - one I had barely begun to grapple with. Next week, I'll get to meet my family again - new addition included. I wonder if he'll remember me.
There are lots of books on parenting - but none on uncle-ing. What role am I supposed to play in this kid's life? Friend? Playmate? Teacher? Guardian? Only time will tell.
