In the early hours of Monday morning (Dec 10th), I was in Melbourne, ready to teach a course in the morning. I made it back in time to help my new daughter Charlotte into the world, but this is what I wrote from the airport:
“Welcome to the world, my daughter. I’m writing this from Melbourne Airport. Your mum called me a little while ago to tell me her waters had broken, but this is nine days early, and I was expecting to teach a course today. Ironically, the course was going to be on SSIS – about moving information from one system to another – and instead we’re both in transition. You from the womb to the world, me rushing from one airport to another.
“Except that I’m not rushing right now. I’m on the first flight out, at 6:15am. That’s over three hours away, during which time you’ll probably be born. I don’t even have internet access from here, so by the time anyone reads this, I’m sure you’ll have arrived.
“I’m looking at pictures of you now, from your scan a couple of months ago. You’re very beautiful. I hope and pray for the best for you. I’m tired now – it feels like I’ll be waiting here forever for this flight. I can’t sleep – couldn’t even if I dared. I just want to get to you.
See you soon.”
She waited for me, arrived on Monday morning, weighing 7lb 12oz. Everyone’s well, and the boys and I took them home from the hospital that evening.