Twenty-two hours later, just after ten in the morning, I was dragged into the world with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck. Six pounds, seven ounces. My mother couldn’t believe it.

“All that work for that little thing?” she said.

My father tore himself away from my side to give Dave the good news. The phone hadn’t made a peep and their shift was over, but Dave was still there.

“It’s a girl,” my father said.

“Damn,” Dave said. “Guess you can’t name her after me, then?”

They laughed and strolled over to where the nurses were setting me up in the baby ward with about a dozen other fresh faces. I was the only girl.

“There she is,” my father said.

“Little slip of a thing,” Dave said. He patted my father on the back. “I’m going home. Tell her she owes me a beer when she gets old enough.”

Dave, I figure I owe you about twenty-two of them. Hope you’re still out there waiting for my call.