Election Night

"If he wins," her husband, John, repeated, "if he wins, I'll shave my head! I chop the whole thing off!"

John was watching the presidential election returns and it was November 2008. Barack Obama was poised to win a four year ticket to the White House, and John had spent the last year campaigning for John McCain. Neither John wanted Barack to win. John's wife, Melissa, had spent the last nine months growing John's baby. She was ready to pop, and John was ready to smash the TV.

"Yes, John, that's awful," she said in a failed attempt to comfort her fuming partner. Patting her belly, she allowed herself a secret smile on the corner of her mouth turned away from John. Melissa had voted for Obama earlier that morning, supporting a Democrat as she had in every election since she was old enough to exercise the ballot.

"They're idiots! He's a damned Communist! A socialist, Melissa! Maybe not even a proper citizen! Are the American people so weighed down by the legacy of slavery that they'll elect a Nigerian Nazi Stalin?" he continued.

Melissa nodded and smiled her secret smile, noticing an unfamiliar tingling emanating from her nether regions. She reached down and found a puddle collecting in her pants.

"Dear," she interrupted, "my water broke."

Minutes later, they were in a speeding car on the way to the hospital. John was weaving through traffic, overjoyed for a moment about the imminent arrival of his child. It wasn't long before he was behind a hybrid with a large Obama-Biden bumper sticker. Talk and excitement about the baby vanished in an instant.

John managed a feat of self-control and avoided ranting again about the presidential race. He locked his teeth and drove on. Sometimes, it's all you can do.

Labor was chaotic. John kept coming into the room and then leaving again. Melissa wondered if he was finding it difficult to watch, but she dedicated eventually to ignore her husband, who had already fulfilled the only task she ever really thought within his abilities.

"Push! Breathe!" he would yell, popping his head into the doorway, then disappearing. The nurse at first thought he was a madman. Melissa had to stop her from phoning security.

Soon there was only the blinding clarity of pain. Melissa focused all her energies on her delivery, and her mind entered a universe as blank and lonely as deep space. She clenched tight against the low hum of silence that filled her ears.

And suddenly, someone with a high voice began to cry. The sound had a weird unison, as though maybe it were two voices: one new and frightened, the other sad and falsetto.

She opened her eyes and stared at the two gleaming bald heads of her husband and son, both sobbing uncontrollably. Barack Obama had delivered his victory speech. She had delivered a boy. John had shaved his head.

"Breathe!" he yelled at her.