On October 30, 2001, my first child was born. At 43 years old, I had thought I would never have my own child, but God works his miracles in mysterious ways. This time, his miracle was in the form of Brande, and the son she gave me, Markus Christopher.

Due to custody issues dealing with our three children from Brande's previous marriage, and career issues on my part, Brande and I maintain two households, one in Atlanta, and one in Kansas. We travel back and forth as much as we can to see each other.

A few days before Halloween, we both felt it was time for me to take a road trip to Kansas in anticipation of our son being born. I arrived in the wee hours of October 27, welcomed by three beautiful girls and one very plump pregnant woman who looked like she was about ready to pop. Having driven the 13-hour drive through the night, I slept most of Saturday while Brande ran the girls on various errands.

Sunday and Monday, like true Network Marketers, Brande and I spent the days and evenings working on a few projects. We did take the time to take the girls to a haunted corn field, where the thrill of the night was having a masked attacker jump out of the corn stalks wielding a chain saw. Brande's nine year old daughter was in tears the whole time. It was great.

Very early Tuesday morning I was awakened by Brande saying in a rather harsh voice "Chris, get the [expletive omitted] out of bed! I need to go to the hospital!" It seems this was the sixth time she had tried to wake me up. We gathered our things and took off to the hospital, about a quarter mile away.

When we arrived at the hospital, they hooked her up to some gadgets and checked her out. It seemed the time was very near. The nurse suggested that we walk the halls, which we did. Of course, I was leaving business cards on all the pay phones in the hallways. After the walk, I left to pick up the girls so they could be there for the delivery.

The girls and I were all in the room for the delivery. The youngest and oldest girls tended to hide their eyes, while Megan, the 12 year old, was extremely curious and had to watch all the action. Brande had the birth naturally, and was in extreme pain, but it was a wonderful occasion. I was standing next to her encouraging her and watched as a perfect boy was born into a world of terrorism and suffering.

My hands were shaking and my eyes were blurred with tears as I cut the umbilical cord. Words cannot describe the emotions I was feeling. It was a mixture of happiness for the birth, concern for the baby and its future, and concern that Brande was ok. Due to the distance, my family was not there. At that moment, I would have given anything for them to witness what I was witnessing.

I remember them laying Markus out on his mom's belly, and me snapping a picture, but between that moment and when the doctor took him off her belly to check him out, I don't remember anything. I was emotionally overwhelmed.

Brande and Markus stayed in the hospital for three days. I stayed with Brande and Markus. The girls would wake up early in the morning and walk the short distance to the hospital to visit before going off to school. On Halloween night, the girls showed up with their friends, all dressed in costumes to visit Markus. Earlier, not wanting Markus to experience his first Halloween without a costume, I had picked up a mask for him at a local drug store. He was quite a sight, sitting in his mother's lap wearing this huge mask that covered his entire face. Another memorable moment was when Brande placed a Tootsie Pop in his hand, and I snapped a picture of him with a wide gaping mouth holding it.

The girls took pictures I had printed of Markus, and taped them to their school books, labeling him "My Hottie" and "My Little Brother". More than one argument occurred over who was going to get to hold him when, and who would feed him.

On the fourth day, we packed and left for the drive to Atlanta. It was a little soon for such a trip, but Brande and I both wanted to introduce Markus to my father and the rest of my family just as soon as possible.

Markus was wonderful. He loved the car ride. He only cries when he is dirty, hungry, or is bathed. He slept most of the way, but we had some wonderful moments when he was awake. We took breaks along the way, to feed him and change him, and to rest. I picked some blades of grass and rubbed them across his cheek, explaining to him what it was. In truck stops, I would hold him up and point out the "big big trucks" as they roared by. Sure, he had no idea what was happening, but he seemed amused.

Brande and I are very similar in many ways, but very different in others. I would be giving Markus a lecture on the Unified Theory of Quantum Mechanics and Einstein's Theory of Special Relativity, and she would interrupt me to talk about basketball, baseball, and football. We are going to have to find a happy medium there somewhere.

We spent the morning of the fifth day resting, and went to the farm that afternoon to introduce Markus to my family. When we arrived, we got Markus out of the car as my father and stepmother came out into the driveway. I went to hand Markus to my father, but could hardly speak as I was choking back the tears. It was a very proud moment for me, and more than that, it meant everything to me for my father to meet my son.

My father and stepmother were both ecstatic. Being 72 years old with his youngest son in his 40's, my father never expected to have another grandbaby. He takes great pride in telling people how many grandchildren he has. Now he has to add one more to the count. The pride my father shows on his face when holding Markus is almost too much to handle.

We spent some time with my parents, and even introduced Markus to the Beagle, Ben, before the other family members began to arrive. Markus slept most of the time, but when he was awake he loved the attention. The highlight of the evening was when we let my special nephew, West, hold Markus and feed him. He is 18 years old, and I do not think he had ever held a baby. He was so scared of hurting Markus he wouldn't move or speak. He only sat there with a huge smile on his face.

Sunday, the sixth day, Brande and I spent alone with Markus. We worked some, cuddled some, played some, and made a trip or two to Wal-Mart. I got to tell you that I never imagined that watching a woman lean over a small child, asking if he wanted "mommy kisses" would mean so much to me.

That evening we went out to dinner. Near the end of the dinner, Markus woke up and became very attentive... so we sat there at the table long past closing playing with him and giving him attention. The waitress got a kick out of the whole thing when she asked "Is there anything else I can do for you?", and I replied "Weeeeeell, he needs changing." as I held Markus up to her.

Monday, the seventh day, it was time for Markus to meet the family of one of my brothers who could not make it to the farm Saturday. This meeting occurred at their office. Although he has two girls, my brother Kirk is a little uncomfortable holding small babies. He would put his arm into position, and have his wife Terry, set Markus on his arm. Of course, he bragged about seldom changing diapers with his children and made the comment "When they say on the side of the box that a diaper is good for up to 28 pounds, I feel they mean it."

Monday night, we had dinner with some friends at a local restaurant. Again, Markus was perfect. Our friends gave us a framed copy of one of the photographs of Markus we had e-mailed them. Afterwards, we visited my younger brother's family again.

Monday night, Brande, Markus, and I all laid in bed together. Brande slept as I held Markus against me and watched a movie until 4:00 A.M. I couldn't get to sleep because I knew what Tuesday would bring. At 5:00 A.M. I changed Markus and fed him, and spent a little time playing with him before I came downstairs to do a little work on my computer. I got back to bed a little after six... cuddled up with Markus and got a few hours sleep.

Today, Tuesday, day 8, is a bad day. Markus has to be back in Kansas tomorrow to be circumcised. I have had to think about that a little. I jokingly told Brande "I don't know about that. When he gets a little older he might wish he had the extra length." This morning I cleaned out the car and loaded it up for Brande. I can't go back to Kansas right now, so Brande and Markus are making the trip alone.

I have only had that boy eight days, and I already love him more than I love myself. After loading the car up, I went back to the bedroom to spend just a little more time with Markus. I looked at his dark hair, his dark eyes, and his silly expressions and wondered how something so wonderful could ever come from me. I took his pacifier and teased him with it... watching his face scrunch up in aggravation. I rubbed my finger along his bottom lip, and watched it curl up as he tried to hide it from me. I played with his fingers and his hands.

I kissed on him and held him, all the while tears were streaming down my face, knowing I would not see him again for a couple of weeks. I told him to behave, and that if his mom didn't treat him right to let me know. I took him out and buckled him in his car seat. Brande followed me to make one stop before she left for Kansas. This allowed me to give them both one more kiss before they left.

They left several hours ago, and I am still breaking out in tears when I think of them. The trip will go fine, I know. And they both will be fine. But, damn I am missing them. I want to watch Brande playing with Markus. I want to be able to hold him, to tease him, and to teach him. Children change daily at this young age. Two weeks from now, when I see him again, he will be different in so many ways.

I wonder if he will remember me?