Angels Among Us

They all warned me – new parents, seasoned parents, grandparents co-workers, even strangers. Their advice was to tread carefully with K post-delivery. Emotions and hormones would run high and a good cry or what I might perceive as a minor breakdown was a positive sign toward recovery…what they didn’t tell me was it could be me who had the breakdown.

Here’s how it all went down.

For months, our weekends were filled with to-do lists. We slowly and methodically checked things off preparing for H’s arrival. The list got smaller as the days got closer. The weekend before H was due, I was planning to install his car seat. On Saturday, February 18, I put the car seat in the car, on Sunday I would install it. But a little thing happened on Sunday. A little thing weighing in at about 7 lbs and 2 ozs that would change our lives forever. A little thing that would require a safely installed car seat to eventually return home.

On Tuesday, after H’s birth, I went down to the parking garage to install the car seat. I was nervous. In my mind, this was a first test of being a good dad. I had to safely install this car seat to protect my son. I left K and H sleeping in the hospital room and went out to do my fatherly duty. I got in the back seat with the directions in hand and my game face on. Following manufacturer directions are not my strong suit, I’m too right brained for it. But this time, I had to follow them precisely. I reached the parking garage. The weather had turned cold again after an unseasonably warm February. The garage was dark, so I turned on the back lights to see the directions better.

To my pleasant surprise, I easily got the seat installed.Proud and relieved, I picked up a few things in the car and hurried back to the room to brag about my accomplishment. Daddy did good.

Fast forward to Wednesday when we were released from the hospital. The process to get released was about as intensive as going through customs.  We had to get dressed, get the baby ready, take the appropriate pictures, have him inspected, scan all our badges, check the car seat and be released. After this, they finally sent us on our way. We strolled out into our new world, mama in a wheelchair, baby in his carrier, a cart carrying our bags and two big arrangements of red roses and two teenage candy stripers. Within a few days we had gone from a couple who traveled only with carry-ons to Paris to a family in need of an entourage to get to the parking lot.

We arrived in the lobby and I went to the parking garage to bring the car around.

I got in the car and cranked it. It didn’t start. I cranked it again. It didn’t start. This is when my world went black. My mind raced. At first it did not register, but quickly, the sequence of the day before flooded my brain. Got to the car – got in the back seat – cold and dark – turned on the lights – installed the car seat – locked the car and returned to the room. TURNED ON THE LIGHTS, BUT NEVER TURNED OFF THE LIGHTS. MOTHER FFFFFFFFFFer. I started to panic and I don’t panic. I thought about how strong K was through everything the past few days; this was what would finally break her. We couldn’t just call a cab like in our ‘carry-on’ days. We had a baby now. I had really screwed up my first debut into fatherhood.

I pulled myself together enough to figure out a solution. I had jumper cables. I would just find someone – anyone - to help me jump the car off quickly and get to K and H and it would all be fine. I called K to tell her about the delay; she didn’t pick up. I jumped out of the car and saw a young guy – about my age. He seemed like a good candidate. I asked him if he was in a hurry. He responded yes, but what did I need? He could probably see the panic in my face. My mouth was so dry – I ran through my story. New Baby, Car Seat, Mom and Baby waiting in Lobby – Car is dead. He was hesitant to help, but did it anyway. A reluctant good Samaritan, but a good Samaritan nonetheless. He helped me push our car out of the parking spot so we could access it to jump it off. I grabbed the cables out of the trunk and popped the hood.

Then things got uglier. My mind was such a blur that I could not find the battery. I could not find the battery. in. my. car. Anywhere. Mortifying. Terrifying. The reluctant good Samaritan slyly eyed his watch. I grabbed the car manual and flipped through as fast as I could. My mind raced. I thought about K and H sitting in the lobby wondering where the hell I was. I thought about how I was a new father and I had really messed this up. I thought about how I could sleep for days, but there is no rest for the weary. And I thought about how I was standing there, in a cold dark parking garage reading a manual to find my car battery…and how embarrassing that was.

I could tell this guy was getting impatient. He was in a rush to go visit his mom in the hospital, so I thanked him for his help and told him to leave. I looked around for the next victim, but no one was in sight. I decided to abandon the car at this point, go find security and go tell K what was going on.

I ran inside to the lobby – which was more like two flights of stairs, a long crosswalk and several long hallways away. I spotted a security guard and told him what had happened and asked for his help.

“It’s against company policy for us to do that, we were doing it all the time and they finally put a stop to it.” He said with little concern. “I can give you the number to a towing company, but that’s all I can do”

“Sure,” I responded impatiently, “Just hurry.” Visions of taking our son home on the back of a tow truck raced through my head.

The security guard gave me the number and then ended by sharing a bit of unwanted advice,

“Here’s the number and I’m going to tell you something else, you’re going to need to calm down, son.”

Not the advice I needed at the moment, but I decided to save any commentary. I might need this guy’s help yet.

I found K and the baby in the lobby, patiently waiting with the two bored teenage candystripers. I told her the car needed to be jumped off, but I had it under control. I waited for the eyes to widen, but she smiled and calmly said they were fine and good luck. Later I would learn she knew immediately what happened, but kept it to herself. What a good woman.

Shocked, relieved and with a new sense of confidence, I returned to the garage and our Volkswagon Passat that sat askew in the middle of the parking lot. I called the towing company. They would be there in 30 minutes. As I sat by the car, my mouth dry from running all over the hospital, a white Dodge Ram twice the size of our Passat rolled up next to me. The driver side window slowly rolled down to reveal the face of a gentleman that closely resembled Samuel L. Jackson. His seats were covered with Washington Redkins seat covers and he wore small, rectangular sunglasses, his face lined with a thin, trimmed beard.

He shouted to me. “What you got going on here?” I ran quickly ran through my story without asking for help. The tow truck was on its way.

He put his truck in park and climbed down, casually asking if I had any jumper cables. “I do,” I said hesitantly knowing what was coming.

“If you’ve got the cables, I’ve got time.” He quipped, continuing out of his truck and toward the exposed engine.

“That’s not the only problem. I don’t want to admit this, but the truth is, I can’t find the battery,” I stammered.

The new Samaritan turned his head sideways, eyeing me skeptically. “What do you mean you can’t find the battery?”

“I know, I know. I’ve looked everywhere.”

He took a look around the engine and to my simultaneous relief and disappointment,he couldn’t find it either.

 “I think the battery is probably in the trunk,” The new Samaritan said with a certain conviction.

I was open for anything at this point. We headed to the trunk, popped it open and I started unloading all our bags on the parking garage floor, but no battery was to be found.

I pulled the manual back out of the car and started to flip through. He helped me look. In a moment of sheer joy, I found the page that outlined the engine. The battery was hidden under a cover near the windshield of the car. This was the first victory of this horrible hospital exit.

I pulled out the jumper cables. I have to take a moment to explain a little something about the history of these cables. I believe K received them years before as a Christmas stocking gift. They were packaged in a petite car repair kit for an Independent Woman. They were so petite, they might as well have been pink.

At the first sight of these cables the new Samaritan shook his head and look at me.“The first thing you need to do when you get home is get rid of these damn things and get some real jumper cables.”

I agreed.

We started the process of hooking up the cables. They were so short that they were not long enough to stretch from his huge truck engine to my little Passat. He moved his car three times until finally, the magic happened.

I got in the car and cranked it. It didn’t start. I cranked it again. It didn’t start. This was not happening. The new Samaritan questioned if it was even the battery. It had to be the battery, I knew it was the battery. I tried again. The car started. The angels sang.

At this point, I got out of the car to put the cables back and I asked this stranger, who in my opinion had just saved my life, his name and address so I could send a proper thank you.  At first he refused, “You’ve probably done something to help someone else and this you getting paid back,” he said.

 I wouldn’t let him leave without his information and finally he relented.

“The name is Angelo Goodman,” he said smiling, pronouncing his last name in two words, good man.

My eyes widened and I fully expected him to evaporate into thin air. Was this man real?

We shook hands and I thanked the Good Man profusely. I may have even bowed to him.

I got in the car and headed off to pick up my wife and new baby with a renewed sense of the goodness in the world we were welcoming our son into. There are indeed angels among us and sometimes they show up in a white Dodge Ram in a hospital parking garage.