Take a trip back in time with me. July 3, 1997. I had finished my first year teaching at Coastal Carolina University and was getting ready to teach (by command performance I might add) second semester intro physics in summer school. On July 3, I drove in to the university like I normally would, not suspecting that my and my wife’s lives would never be the same afterwards.

When I arrived in my office (which was a 10 min drive from home in good traffic), the red message light was blinking on my phone. I checked the message and heard my wife say, “Brian, my water just broke. I’m driving myself in to the hospital. Meet me there.” After my heart rate returned to a reasonable level, I complied (that’s what a husband is to do in such situations afterall).

We met at the maternity ward, and were there for at least 10 hours before our daughter was delivered (after giving my wife something that induced labor). Bless her heart, my wife didn’t take any pain killers. She has rheumatoid arthritis, and was afraid of some complications that she had read about. I think she’s the strongest person I know.

When our baby girl arrived, the staff asked us her name. Up until the last minute, we thought it would be Jessica. My wife turned to me though and said it needed to be Kaitlin. So, happy birthday #12 Kaitlin! Fireworks have never been the same for us.