Today I am linking up with my wife’s blog and her weekly I Must Confess. This week’s confession topic is “most memorable hospital visit” which I told her was a pretty horrible topic. Then I thought about MY most memorable hospital trips and I could hardly remember any of the bad ones (except the most recent hospital visit).

What really stuck out for me were the days that each of my children were born. Those three days were not only the most memorable hospital visits, but three of the most important days of my life. I remember the excitement and fear and sense of anticipation. The sense of helplessness as I saw what my beautiful wife was going through as she gave birth to our kids. And, of course, the feeling of overwhelming joy and happiness when I held my children in my arms for the first time. While I remember going to the hospital and various moments of our children’s births in a kind of “snapshot montage”, I distinctly remember the first time I sat, alone, with each of my kids. The sense of happiness and completeness as the slept quietly in my arms.

Each of our children’s births was very different. With our eldest we didn’t know what to expect and in the end it didn’t go as smoothly as new mothers would hope and we had to have an emergency c-section. We planned for a caesarian for our second, but she came three weeks early and was a tiny, tiny angel. Our third was also a planned caesarian and it was all quite surreal to watch your wife prepare for an operation in this manner, and to know in advance the exact time of your child’s birth.

The result for all three, however, was the same. A beautiful baby who grew into a strong, healthy child. Sometimes hospitals can be pretty terrible places, but at other times they are places where miracles happen.

When my son was born 1