On Christmas morning last December, Melissa surprised me with the most wonderful present I've ever received - affirmative news that she is pregnant with our first child. We told family and close friends but wanted to keep the news semi-private in case events turned for the worse.
When Melissa presented me with this news, I eventually began to wonder how it would affect my hiking trip. Selfish, I know, but then again, I guess that's why it took us six years until we starting talking about a family. Regardless, I thought about staying home to be with her but we both realized that we can't put our daily lives on hold just in case something bad happens.
I was able to leave for six days with a fairly clear conscience and optimism that nothing devastating would transpire in my absence. Before I left, I made sure Melissa understood that I would positively and in no way be able to make contact with her for four days. Once I talked to her on Monday afternoon, I would not make contact until sometime Friday late afternoon; in case of an emergency (on my end), I left our daily itinerary and the park dispatch number for her to call Saturday evening if she hadn't heard from me on the expected date.
New Years Eve, Melissa went to her dad's house to spend the night. Late that night, she felt she needed to be rushed to the emergency room. The doctors did little to calm her fears and I think she left even more scared than she was upon admission; a few days later, she went to her regular doctor and took the necessary tests to confirm viability. After that, all she could do is wait. For test results, for me.
In the meantime, I was enjoying rugged life outdoors oblivious to everything that was going on with my wife and my child. My main concerns were how much water I had in my pack and whether I could continue to put one foot in front of the other until it was time to stop. More about that later, however.
Despite Melissa's repeated assurances to her family concerning my incommunicado status, they found it ridiculous that the rangers could not contact me and relay an urgent message. After all, the park is only 1,200 square miles. My mother-in-law called park dispatch where she was reassured that I was well outside the range of communication and at best, would come back to contact with the world in a few days.
On the evening of the third day, I suddenly and without cause became worried about Melissa. While this wasn't my first trip where I couldn't regularly check in with her and normally would not have been concerned, I felt something wasn't quite right. For some reason, I couldn't keep my mind on the trail. I crawled up with my own inner thoughts and before I knew it, I had walked about half a mile ahead of the party. I told myself that I was going on ahead to scout a place to camp for the night before it got too dark but in reality, I just needed to be alone for a while.
Once it got too dark to safely travel alone, I rested in a wash and waited for everybody to catch up. We walked together the rest of the evening and I felt much better although I kept my worries to myself.
Suffice it to say, the hike ended successfully and without incident, as expected. Although I had hoped to call Melissa by noon of that Friday, we did not finish until 3:30.
Melissa and I do not have a land line; we each carry mobile phones. If Melissa doesn't recognize a number from her caller i.d., she is less likely to answer the call. Fortunately, she answered mine. We talked for a few minutes before she told me everything that had happened in the five previous days.
I felt helpless being stuck seven hours from my wife. Although I knew Chris would offer to go out of his way to get me back to Dallas earlier than planned, Melissa assured me she was okay and there was nothing that could be done until the test results came back that afternoon. I told her that since I was calling from a pay phone, I was still several more hours away from being in an area where I could get mobile-to-mobile service.
After I got off the phone with Melissa, Nate pointed out the message board outside the ranger's office that instructed me to call home as soon as possible. Fortunately, I did not see it before I called or it may have caused greater concern.
One of my favorite things about hiking is the first meal afterward. The cheeseburger, Coke, and cobbler were just okay instead of the greatness I had looked forward too. I was still quite worried but everybody assured me that was a natural part of prenatal fatherhood so I might as well get used to it.
By the time I was able to pick up mobile service in Alpine, Melissa received her test results back and to our relief, they confirmed a viable pregnancy. She was anxious, however, to have her husband safely back home; I was just as anxious to be home with her. Nevertheless, we drove back to San Marcos that night.
Fortunately, Larry and Colleen were traveling to Waco where I could meet and drive back with them. And although I was grateful my parents were able to share a meal with her parents, it only meant that I would be delayed in getting back to Dallas by a few more hours.
Once home, everything quickly returned to normal. She was able to get the rest she needed and I was able to take care of her like she needed. More importantly, she quickly resumed normal pregnancy benchmarks and we began the process of converting the extra bedroom to a nursery and choosing furniture.
My hiking clothes have been cleaned and my gear is back in the garage where it belongs. It'll remain there for quite some time, I've been assured.
The hiking trip re-provided a good lesson about belaying fears and assessing current situations.
We can, and should, do all in our power to prepare for a series of events. Once they begin to occur, however, all we can do is take care of the present. We can't do anything about the past and can't take control of the future. All we can do is put one foot in front of the other until we get to our destination.
