Police and courts reporter
Friday, May 29 dawned sunny and cool.
Sandusky was abuzz about police arresting a man for taking it upon himself to mow the lawn at a city park.
Tara was feeling contractions.
I didn't know what to do.
Should I go to work? Help with a story that would soon gain the city on the bay national attention?
Or should I stay with my wife and unborn daughter? Following the advice of Michael Corleone, I decided not to go against the family, and stayed home from work.
It turned out to be a good thing.
Within hours we were in a hospital room.
Tara took a pain killer to take the "edge" off the contractions at just after 7 p.m.
By 10:45 p.m. India Lily Fitzpatrick was being held by a nurse and screaming like a banshee.
I should know. I was there.
That's right. Saw my wife Tara deliver right smack dab in front of me.
I was actually try to get on the hospital's wireless Internet when a nurse checked on Tara at a little after 10 p.m. and set into motion what would be India's grand entrance.
I was sitting in a chair by Tara's bed. She just yelled at me because I could not at first find the cherry lip balm she wanted to apply to her lips. In medical terms Tara was engaging in transition when she yelled at me.
For those of you who've never had kids, transitioning is a nice word for the hell women go through when they are giving birth. It's that part often captured in movies where the woman is sweating, grunting, pushing and cussing out her husband. I think because my wife had hospital strength narcotics coursing through her blood stream, I didn't get beat up as verbally as I could have been.
While attempting to find an Indians-Yankees score on line, a female doctor entered the room and told me: '"We're going to put you to work" and I ended up pushing on Tara's right leg as she pushed for about 30 minutes before little India came out.
The first three weeks of fatherhood have gone by in the blink of the eye. My wife and I are sleep-deprived, and have changed probably 300 or so diapers between us. The first week home India would scream so loud as I'd walk her around the house in the wee hours of the morning, that for a few days might right ear actually rang. But just seeing India's little face, hearing her snorting and just looking at her makes it all worth it.
She appears to have a temper. When she becomes upset her whole body, all 20 inches and six pounds 14 ounces, turns pink, as she rages like the Hulk.
Eventually she settles down and falls asleep and all is right with the world.
Until she gets hungry, which is like 20 minutes after she just fell asleep, and my wife has to get up and feed her -- yes, my wife is nursing. That can be a tough routine to keep to when it's 3 a.m.
After one particularly rough night in the weeks after we first brought Indi home, we awoke one morning and talked about the prior night.
My wife looked at me and said: "And there was no escaping it."
I thought to myself: Why would you ever want to?