From Jonathan

I don’t usually share on such a public forum as this. Mostly I prefer to keep my feelings and my stories close to my heart—Melissa. Although this story may not have meaning to everyone, it has deep meaning to me. Thank you for reading it, I’m sorry it is a little long for a blog.

Abigail Dawn Braun was born on January 3rd, 2009. My Dad was among a select few people to hold her minutes after she took her first breath. January 3rd was a very, very, very cold day. On the way to the hospital late that morning Melissa broke the sun visor on the passenger side when she tried to lower it to keep the sun from her eyes. That cold it just snapped off. I recall it being in the high minus 40 degrees with the wind chill—frightfully cold, close to minus 50. But I digress. The hospital staff decided to admit Melissa based on some minor contractions. We weren’t too sure anything was going to happen that day. They admitted Melissa sometime around 3:00pm. We didn’t have anything with us that day. The car seat for little Abbey, her diaper bag with the clothes that Abbey would wear home, and all the necessities for having a baby. I drove back to Borden, about ½ hour drive to retrieve these items. Big mistake. But before I left I called in the cavalry—Mom and Dad. I asked if they could come and sit with Melissa and keep her company, after all there was really nothing going on baby-wise, and besides, I’d be right back. No problem, right? Well, after I had gathered the necessary items from home, loaded the car; including some stuff for Noah and myself for the night (I also shoveled the driveway for a bit) I headed back to Saskatoon. Around Langham Melissa calls me: “They broke my water” she says. I say “what” and give the car a little more gas. I still think I’ll be alright. I make it back to the hospital; turns out I’m just in the nick of time. Mom makes a hasty exit from the room, Dad left only minutes before as Melissa started going into heavy labour. Fifteen minuscule minutes later my beautiful baby girl sucked in her first breath.

Guess who was listening right outside the door?

My Dad, listening to first cries of life of his granddaughter. Close your eyes and imagine—a middle-aged man listening at the door on a maternity wing of a hospital while a middle-aged woman is giving him the gears about how he isn’t allowed to be standing there. A grin from ear-to-ear on his face. I’m so glad I called my Mom and Dad that day. After the baby is cleaned up and the nursing staff does their examination of little Abigail they hand her back to her adoring parents. I leave the room to fetch the grandparents. Now there is no stopping him. He gets to hold his granddaughter, feel the warmth of her brand new skin against his chest, and look into her dark eyes. “Look at you” he says, “Look at you”. Perhaps God sent Dad home from Seattle; “You gotta get home John and see those girls”. This little story makes me happy. This is not a sad story, this is a happy story. I love you Dad. Thank you for teaching me about love, may mine expand and grow everyday with my family as I know yours did with yours.