To An Athlete Dying Young

The Time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the marketplace
Man and boy stood cheering by,
and home we brought you shoulder high.
A.E. Houseman To An Athlete Dying Young

The first time I heard this poem, I wept. It reminded me of my father. An athlete who died young. My father was a swimmer - he had a wing span that crushed every competitor along his wake. He was strong, built to win. A herniated muscle ruined his chances at the Olympics, but he always "looked" like an athlete. And, to be totally honest, had the ego of an athlete.

My father was 46 when he died in an instant. He had a heart attack. An athlete dying young.

Today marks 21 years since he died. I was 12 years old. I remember every detail of the day he died. Every detail. Smells, sounds, temperature, what we watched on tv, what we ate for lunch. But I can’t remember much more than that. I don’t remember a lot of our memories before that. It’s weird because I know we were happy, I know we laughed, but I don’t remember it all.

So, today, on this 21^st year without Kenneth Bradbury Batla, I will eat German Chocolate Cake, go swimming and laugh with my family. It’s the only thing I can do to make sure I remember something that I know he would have loved.

You can't fly, lady

I'm huge. Yes, I realize I'm carrying twins but the belly is massive and it gets a lot of attention. Bieber-style attention.

When you are pregnant, people have a filter malfunction that sometimes leads them to say really stupid things. When you are pregnant with twins, no matter the tact on the human being, that filter was checked at the Jerry Springer door.

The comments about my belly have been incredible, and there really are too many to list, so I will give you my favorite so far.

On my last business trip, at 23 weeks pregnant, the TSA screener at the Detroit Airport said, "Oh Sugar, they won't let you get on the plane that close to your due date. Pilots don't like delivering babies on planes." To which I responded, oh I'm not due for another three months and I'm pregnant with twins so I look bigger than your average preggo. Instead of "oh, wow, congrats" the sweet, sweet TSA lady looked at me in horror and said, " Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where's your belly going to go?"

I just smiled and said, "Everywhere, I guess."

Irrational Love

When Bean was a newborn, Grandma B. sent us a little stuffed black-and-white puppy that she won at her nursing home's bingo match. I remember receiving it and thinking, "Oh, I wanted something black and white for E. because, apparently, black and white is good for brain stimulation." That was as far as that thought went, because I was too sleep deprived to consider color effects on a 2-month old.

Puppy stayed in the living room and after a while E. gravitated toward him. She would always reach for him over other toys, and he quickly became a MAJOR part of her life. From those early days to now, she sleeps with Puppy during every nap and night.

Two years later, Puppy is a part of our family. I know that sounds very strange, but to illustrate mine and Pete's love of this animal, I give you the following story:

E often "adopts" baby dolls at her daycare and throws fits if she can't take them home. Our sweet daycare lets her bring them home now and then. Last week, "Keeta" was brought into our house. A cute little cabbage patch doll. When it was time to go to bed, E said, "I want Keeta to sleep with me. Take Puppy away." P. and I looked at each other and thought "HELL NO!" so we put puppy in the corner of her crib and walked out of her room.

As we shut the door, this is what happened:

Pete turned to me and said "Eff that little interloper who's trying to replace Puppy. That ain't happening."

I find this amusing for so many reasons. Mainly because Jersey Pete came out over a stuffed animal (my, oh my, how times have changed) and because we both have this protective love for a stuffed animal. I know there is deep sentiment, because it came from Pete's grandma, but it goes beyond that.

We often find ourselves saying hi to Puppy, even when Eliza is not around. He is our daughter's first friend, in a way, so we will always love him.

He has comforted her when we couldn't possibly understand the fit she was having over, say, the fact that I grabbed the pink cup instead of the purple cup, or tried to change her diaper when she was busy doing a puzzle. Puppy gets it and Pete and I are forever grateful.

And Eliza might not admit it, but when she woke up in the middle of the night to see Puppy by her side along with Keeta, there were no complaints.

He Said/She Said

These little boys are wreaking havoc on my body. I wish I had never read those stupid Twilight books because now I'm fairly convinced that I'm having a vampire baby. One who is growing at 20 times the normal gestation. One that can actually crack my rib.

I won't bore you too much with what it's like to be pregnant with twins. If you want a run down, ask Pete, it's his FAVORITE game - the "what part of my body feels like it just broke" game. He L-O-V-E-S it.

Instead I will share with you the "he said/she said" version of finding out about them with guest blogger, Mr. Coloradoanmichigander.

She Said

I went in for an early appointment at about eight weeks because I was having a lot of pain in my right side. P. could not go with me, so I was by myself. At the appointment, my doc said she wanted to do an ultrasound to check everything out. She and I were both thinking something was not right with all the pain I was having.

Here is how it unfolded:

Doctor: "Okay, I am going to look in your uterus now. oh! OH!"

Me: "WHAT? WHAT?"

Doctor: "I see two hearts."

Me: "My baby has two hearts?

Doctor: "No, your baby has a friend."

Me: "What the hell does that mean?"

Doctor: "You are having twins, I'm trying to tell you that you are having twins."

Me: "Actually, that's not possible, it doesn't run in my family and I'm not on fertility treatment."

Doctor flips monitor around and points to the screen and says "I see two babies. Do you see two babies?"

I then laughed uncontrollably for a solid hour. She went on to talk a bit about twin pregnancy but I have no idea what she said. At the end of the appointment, I was still laughing so hard that she grabbed my knees and said "I need to know you are okay to drive." I was not. I was manic.

I immediately starting calling Pete who was in the middle of a huge breaking news story...

He Said

So I was on the phone with a source on the coaching search story – someone who I had been trying to get to call me back for several days. Having someone who's actually relevant to a coaching search call you back is met with the same joy of, say, meeting the Dalai Lama, so this was huge for me.

I had even left my desk to take this call in the private hallway one floor below my office, so that I wouldn't pique the curiosity of any of the other reporters and overlords who were eager for coaching search news.

So needless to say, when the call waiting first flashed my wife's name, I totally ignored her. When she called right back, I grew more annoyed and ignored her call again. When she battered me with a third consecutive phone call, I nearly threw the phone down in anger, but then something clicked in my head and I remembered she had scheduled a doctor's appointment and got a lump in my throat.

"Hey (highly confidential source)," I said. "I'm going to have to call you back."

So I call E back, and she's hysterical.

I immediately think the worst, and start assembling some sort of "its-ok-and-we-can-try-again-soon" script in my head – whatever sort of textbook response you are supposed to recite when your wife tells you she had a miscarriage. She's totally bawling.

But before I could blurt out anything stupid like that, or maybe it was during my intro, she's stammering between the hysteric sobs – or where they laughs? – something like, "no ... no, ta ... ta... twins! We're having twins!"

It was at this point the hallway started spinning like after I have five too many gin-and-tonics, and I really can't recall anything about my response or anything else that occurred in the next few minutes, other than that my wife was driving to my office so we could together process the momentous news.

(Ed's Note: She is still laughing. He is still drinking).