9...

I'm standing at home plate, the bat at ready, trying to see through the glare of the bright sunshine to the pitcher's mound. I can almost hear the whir of the ball moving through the air as it races towards me. But then the bat vanishes from my hands and instead of hitting the ball I catch it, and instead of a ball it's a bundle of heavy blankets. I start running to first base and the ball is squirming in my hands, making it hard to hold on to. The roar of the crowd fills my ears and all I can do is run. I've passed third base and no one seems to be trying to tag me out, so I take a look down at the bundle in my arms and realize for the first time that it's not just a bundle, it's a baby. The baby opens its mouth and I brace myself for the scream I know is coming. Ring. What? I'm confused; the baby is ringing. Wait, that's not right, the baby isn't ringing...

Ring.

I groaned and tried the pull the tangled blankets away from me. Why'd I let the guys drag me out last night?

Ring.

My head was pounding. Go away!

Ring.

The whole gang had shown up at the hospital just before visiting hours were over and insisted that we had to mark the occasion with a trip to Marty's. I laughed at the sight of them, a motley group with long hair and bell- bottoms, as they stood at the nursery window making googley eyes at the babies. Just one drink they said. Ha! With those guys, nothing was ever done halfways. We played hard and we worked hard, and somewhere in between we had a couple laughs. So, of course I went with them and of course one drink became four. But I figured if anything was worth celebrating, this was it.

Ring.

The phone. The phone was ringing. Must get to phone...

Ring.

"Hello?" This better be important.

"Mr. Micelli?"

"Speakin'," I grumbled.

"Hi, Mr. Micelli. I'm calling from the hospital. It's about your wife."

The words shot through me and within seconds I was completely awake. "Marie? She okay?"

"Well, actually that's the reason I'm calling. She's experiencing some...difficulties and we need you down here to make some decisions." The girl on the other end of the line spoke nervously, as though she wasn't telling me everything and wanted to.

"Difficulties? What difficulties? She was fine when I left her."

"There's been some complications. Look, Mr. Micelli, I'd rather not go into details on the phone. The doctor can explain things much better to you in person. Just come, please."

"Yeah. I'm there. Just...take care of her, okay?" Not waiting to hear her answer, I grabbed a pair of sweats and my keys, and raced out the door with a sick feeling rolling in the pit of my stomach.

The doctor spoke to me and it was just a jumble of words. Hemorrhaging, loss of blood, at risk...surgery. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not to Marie. Not to us.

"Do you understand me, Mr. Micelli?"

I blinked, "What?"

"The medication doesn't seem to be working. So the next viable option is surgery, which holds some risks in itself." He was speaking slowly, trying to break through the wall of shock that had formed around me.

My throat felt tight. "And if she doesn't have the surgery?"

The doctor wouldn't quite meet my eyes. "Well, there's no guarantees, but..."

I nodded and felt my body slump with the weight of the decision. Finally, I took a deep breath and replied, "Okay, I get it. Do what you need to do to make her better."

"And you understand, with this surgery, you won't be able to have any more children."

My head shot up and my breath seemed to catch in my throat. Our dream, our family... Trying to keep it together, I looked the doctor straight in the eye. "Without her, there's nothing." He broke away from my gaze then, and swallowed. "Doc," I said, "Take care of her."

Solemnly, he nodded. "I will. I promise."

If there was ever a place I didn't want to be, it was in a hospital waiting room while my wife lay on some cold and sterile operating table. I wanted to be home in bed, the weight of Marie's forehead pressing against my chest as the hours to morning slipped away. I wanted to be out with the guys, the rush of fresh air and freedom in my lungs as we roamed the Brooklyn nightlife. I wanted to be a child again, just for a moment, safe and protected, ignorant of all the sorrows life had in store. I would've given anything to change places with her. I would've given anything to spare her from pain...

I couldn't bring myself to call anyone. The worry, the fear, the waiting, it seemed too cruel of a thing to inflict on anyone just yet. So somehow I found myself back at the nursery, drinking in the sight of my precious baby girl, desperate to convince myself that everything was going to be fine. I guess someone there must've known what was going on, because I felt a hand on my shoulder and a nurse led me inside. They sat me down, placed Samantha in my arms, and told me they'd let me know when they heard anything about Marie.

My hands felt so large, so big and clumsy cradling this tiny bundle of life. I brought her close, breathing in her newness, and nuzzled the fuzzy down of her head. She opened her eyes then and stretched and yawned but she didn't cry. She just stared up at me with those dark eyes, looking more calm and serene than any newborn had a right to. Then it hit me. Suddenly I knew deep down in my gut, that things were gonna be okay.

And mostly, I was right. The months that followed weren't easy. We were still so young and the stresses of a new baby and all the changes sometimes seemed too big to manage. We made it through, though to this day I still sometimes wonder how we managed it. It wasn't like we had much choice. We survived because we had to. We survived because life has a funny way of just rolling on. And mainly we survived because having Sam made it all worthwhile. As for everything else, well... Eventually you learn you can't control everything and you learn how to adjust your dreams to more realistic goals. You learn to be happy. We were happy. We had so much.