White Plains Hospital, Star Diner, and the Son Who Made Me Cry
On the day my middle child was born, I didn't cry. I woke up at three in the morning, looked over at my pained wife, waited for my parents to come watch my oldest, kissed my oldest, then took my wife to White Plains Hospital across from Star Diner in White Plains, New York. The nurse received us, the doctor talked to my wife, and said how dilated she was. We were put in a room with a machine where I watched a monitor that tracked her contractions. It looked like a bad day on Wall Street. After a while, my wife told me the contractions were getting worse. There was pushing, there was waiting, and there was more pushing. When my middle child came out, he was quiet, beautiful, and then they poked him a bunch on a table, and he was still quiet (not at all like on the television). My wife fell asleep, and they took him to the NICU for a week. I sat in a chair and watched television in that NICU. I watched many bad movies and saw commercials for a show called Paw Patrol. After that week...