As Sara moaned with labor pains, I looked over to her and said, "Shut up. I'm trying to watch a movie."

Before I became a dad I directed movies. I still do. That's why they call me Big Daddy Director. Anyways, on a film set everyone is looking to you to lead the way; to have all the answers. 

Someone recently asked me this question, "Are you the daddy?" It was at that point, with no regret or hesitation, I turned away and booked it to the nearest exit. This wasn't a film set although the many different scenarios that played out in the hospital seemed like a scripted reality TV show. 

Truth be told I was the father. On March 6, 2017, I saw the greatest thing ever; LOGAN. Not to say it was the best movie ever, but Hugh Jackman really delivered for his final performance as The Wolverine. The worst part of the movie was when Sara, my wife, was going into labor in the next seat over. That may sound harsh, but part of me was hoping she'd give birth right there in the theater. For one, I'd get to finish the movie - and two, a filmmakers child being born in a theater is priceless. 

Oh, that's right. The whole baby thing. Let's skip forward while simultaneously jumping back a bit.

Earlier in the day, before the whole theater experience, Sara was having labor pains so we headed to the hospital which is about an hour and a half away from where we reside. About a week or so before, we had taken a trip to the hospital but they told us she wasn't about to have the baby so they sent us home. 

This time, Sara swore up and down that this was it. I was a little hesitant since last time didn't, you know, happen. I didn't want to get my hopes up again but there we sat at the hospital for the second time waiting...

Her contractions were consistent but the doctor told us she wasn't dilated enough. Sara must of been pretty damn determined to have that baby because we left that hospital but didn't leave the area. We were going to wait a few hours to see if the pain progressed and if so we could get to the hospital immediately. 

I was determined to get home because I was bored out of my mind and wanted to lay on the couch and pull lent from my belly button. That didn't happen. It was at this point that we went to Golden Coral, saw Logan, went to Wal-Mart, and then to the Haywood Mall. Sara wanted to do laps around the parking lot because she knew that if she sat down the pains would probably subdue. And she wanted to prove me wrong this time. 

Eventually the pains grew worse. To the hospital for the third time (second time that day) we went. Another doctor checked her out and said, "Shit girl, you about the same as you were earlier, but being that you live so damn far away, we'll put you up in a room and monitor you." The doctor didn't say it quite like that but you get the point. 

The room wasn't too bad. Sara got a bed with buttons on it and stuff. They jacked her up on morphine. Robyn (mother-in-law) got the couch and I got a chair. 

And then, just as my head dropped, a nurse came in and checked on Sara who had been asleep. I was the only one awake. They had checked on her throughout the night but not much excitement. This time though, I heard the nurse say, "it's time to push." 

I was on my feet pacing. This was about to happen. And it did happen. Ten-minutes later Desmond Theodore Rowland was born at 6:14AM on March 7, 2017. Sara was right. The doctors and I were wrong. 

But don't tell her I said that because I'm always right. Except when I'm wrong and when I am I'm still right.