“Captain, Your Wife is in Labor”
The morning of my 26th birthday found me sitting in my favorite coffee shop, drinking an iced chai and attempting to write but seeing as Date #7 hadn’t bothered to wish me a happy birthday, I was—I’m both ashamed and embarrassed to admit— rather preoccupied.
My cousin-in-law, who I’ve only met once in my life, managed to wish me a happy birthday.
My high school sweetheart, who has since gotten married, managed to wish me a happy birthday.
Even Date #6 texted me (although, in all fairness, we did go out for lunch on Wednesday and I did get rather trashed because I take my duties in restaurant-sampling quite seriously. As such, the contents of said text were less “Happy Birthday” and more “Did you get home okay?” followed by a stern “Do NOT drunk dial Date #7!”)
Obviously, being a rational 26 year old, I blame my dad. My dad missed my very first birthday—as in, he missed the actual birth of his first child—so clearly it’s his fault that I have such terrible luck with men so far as birthday wishes are concerned.
Unlike Date #7, however, my dad has a good excuse. It’s a rather cute story, actually, so when one of my readers inquired about “Chauffer’s” whereabouts on the day of my birth, he offered to tell the story– enjoy!
August 10, 1985
(As told by my dad)
In 1985, I was Captain of a ship called the Manhattan Island in the Gulf of Mexico. I had planned to be home for a month— two weeks before Kat’s “due to arrive” date until two weeks after— but Kat, always one to make an entrance, arrived an entire three weeks early.
So it was a Saturday night, near midnight, when I was summoned to the bridge of the ship for a message from the office. Mind you, in 1985 there were no cell phones and no internet; communications were over a radio and everyone— and I do mean everyone— could hear the entire conversation.
The office told me to call home, not to worry (yeah, like that was gonna happen) but my wife was in labor. So I made the radio call to New Hampshire where we lived at the time and sure enough, “Landlord” was in labor. She was cool and on top of it as always (she had become accustomed to me being away and we’d invited a family friend to attend Lamaze classes with us just in case) and assured me there was no reason to worry— except for the fact that I wanted to be in New Hampshire, not on a ship in the Gulf of Mexico.
Trying to offer encouragement, I assured her I would get home as soon as was humanly possible and only very narrowly avoided telling her, “Go ahead and have the baby if you have to. Don’t try to hold it and wait for me.” Having uttered a number of dumb things over the years (and having gotten a lot of grief from my family over this), I am very glad that I kept that particular thought to myself.
Then, as I couldn’t leave the ship until my relief arrived, I did what I could: I drank a six pack with the Chief Engineer.
I got periodic reports throughout the day on August 11th. My relief was from Cape Cod and moved about as fast as… well not at all fast. He couldn’t get a flight until later that evening and I was a wreck: pacing, fidgeting and watching the clock.
The Chief Engineer kept asking me to help him with all sorts of projects that didn’t actually require my help, just to keep me occupied. He too had missed the birth of his oldest (which may explain why he and his wife went on to have four more to make up for it). Calls from the hospital came occasionally but both the delivery and my relief’s progress seemed to be standing still.
Finally I got the call: I had a daughter. Once again, the call had come over the radio so everyone could hear. The crew members demanded to know what time Kat had been born so I asked “Landlord” and she replied, “Quarter past four… something like that.”
But this wasn’t good enough for the crew; they needed the exact time, which turned out to be 4:16pm. Only later did I learn why this information was so important.
I was Captain on the Manhattan Island but I was also the youngest person on board. The other professional seamen were guys that fit every sailor stereotype you can imagine. Some were WW2 veterans (one had had a ship sunk from under him) and this was early during the Reagan administration; unions were only just beginning to lose their clout and the old timers would put up with no B.S. This was also pre-Exxon Valdez, so although alcohol was not allowed, it was certainly tolerated.
After Kat was born one of my favorite shipmates, Tom Jones (we had a Jimmy Stewart on board too), gave me a congratulatory hug and said, “Now Cap, you know we have no alcohol on this vessel, but if you would like, I’ll bring a bottle of Johnny Walker to dinner for a toast to your daughter.”
During dinner, I learned why it had been so important to know the exact time of Kat’s birth. Seamen, you see, will bet on anything and they had a pool for the exact time of her arrival. The winner collected half of the pool ($150 if I remember) and the other half was given to Kat as a savings bond form the crew of the Manhattan Island.
I was really touched—I did not want to be there at all that day but these guys had made it as bearable and special for me as they could.
—So that’s the reason that my dad missed my birth. Having spent time amongst my dad’s shipmates over the years, the last part always cracks me up—the thought of a bunch of weathered, tobacco-spitting seamen taking bets on the birth of a baby girl! But this is hardly the end of the story. Oh no. It gets better, because mind you—at this point, my dad is still stuck in the Gulf of Mexico. I’ll post the second half tomorrow (seeing as I’ll be hung over and either on my way to Pittsburgh or too devastated about not being on my way to Pittsburgh to put together a coherent sentence). Get ready for a cameo appearance from my skunk-loving, cat mobile-building Abuelo, a band of Jehovah’s Witnesses and one heck of a travel story.
Kat Echevarría Richter 
15 Responses to ““Captain, Your Wife is in Labor””
Well. Now we know where you get your writing ability!
I so enjoyed reading this story. All birth stories are really special, but yours has more drama than most! Now I want to hear Landlord’s account of how she went through her first labor and delivery without Chauffeur. I’m sure he’s been paying her back for his unfortunate absence for the past 26 years 🙂
Actually, my birth coach was a great friend and as many of you know, labor is such an intensive thing, that I didn’t care who was there as long as it was OVER and I had a healthy wonderful little girl…this was back in the day where we aspired (rightfully so IMHO) to try to do it as naturally as possible. Although KAT teases him mercifully about this. I wonder though in the age of cell phones, whether they would have allowed me to talk on them? Hmmm…never gave that a thought…there are some funny moments on my end, maybe next year it will be my turn 😉
I can’t wait for the next installment! Obviously she has forgiven him for not being there… And…a good story is a good story!
I love it! Can’t wait to hear the rest! And I agree with Katie – your dad is a great writer!
Great story!! Happy be-lated!!!
I arrived over a month early while my family was on vacation at Ocean City, MD. They had no baby supplies and my Grandmother’s best friend went shopping for all the necessities – premie clothes were too big so I started life in cabbage patch doll dresses. My Mother had to drive to Salisbury to deliver in the nearest – 40mi away – hospital that could deliver me. Of course my Father had a deep sea fishing trip planned which he still went on – caught a huge fish that is now mounted. Someone attempted to carjack him but he pulled his fish knife and politely explained he needed his car to get to his wife who was delivering his first child – the carjacker graciously let him keep the car. Then when I’m born they didn’t have a name picked out yet so I was named after the doctor, Daniel, and the nurse, Colleen. I was just happy to spend the first week of my life sitting pretty on the beach. I love crazy birth stories!
Kat was nameless for a while as well…more on how landlord dealt with this craziness later 😉
Meh. I think it would’ve been much dumber had you said, “Honey, can’t you just hold it in until I get there???” 😉
Dennis, I have said so many dumb things in my life, and generally in front of the person I would least like have hear it…. but I did actually swallow that thought and not allow it to exit my mouth, it would have been even worse as I would have said it over the radio, for everyone to hear.
Loved this post Kat! My dad spent a lot of time at sea when I was little, and although he didn’t miss my arrival, being apart was a big part of our family early on. I love the sea stories of shipmates coming together to support one another in times like those. =)
I loved this story. Thanks for sharing, Chauffeur! And I can’t wait to hear about Los Abuelos tomorrow! I think they are my favorite characters, and I do mean “characters,” in this saga.
This is such a cute story, I loved it! I’m so glad that he shared it and just find it too funny that they bet on the actual time of when you were born and the one who guessed it right got to go home with the pot. Looking forward to the next addition!
well now we know where the ability to tell a great story comes from.
thanks to your family for sharing such a personal tale.
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