Golgotha

This is the hospital we may be bringing our boy to the world in. But because we're capitalistic consumers, we do have the choice. We'll send pictures after the visit to the next hospital as well.

No worries! We weren't there for anything serious. Just a "preview the hospital" appointment. We sat in a group of about 30 other couples listening to the head doctor talk about the day of reckoning. By the time he got done I think most of the women were thinking: "Am I doing the right thing here?" "How do I get my money back?" "Where's the ticket taker?"

Then you remind yourself that this sterile place with lovingly painted warm yellow walls is where you are going to soon be going, come hell or high water, in just a few short weeks. Then you just suddenly don't want to be you anymore. Forget the refund! Give me a new life!

At least that's they way I kind of second-hand experienced it. I wanted to assure Kristine that it would "all be good". Those kinds of statements don't even have the smell of truth. Let alone carry any substance. No, your lovely wife with the big belly is going to come to this Golgotha and be humiliated beyond belief and be beaten seemingly beyond repair. Then the most amazing thing happens. So the story goes. They put this unbelievably small and helpless life that you have been a part of creating, onto your breast and life begins anew.

To imagine, that something so beautiful can come of something so bestial is paradox and breathtaking. It's right!