2020 has sucked. Not once during 2019 did I ever think that I would wish I could go back to that smelly armpit of a year, but here I am. Except for one thing.

Last week my son was born. He made his big debut on Earth at 7lbs 14oz, and 21 inches.

Before we could go to the hospital for our appointment, my wife had to be tested for Covid-19. The test was the dreaded nasal swab. In her words, my wife said it felt like they were testing to see if it had reached her brain. It was uncomfortable. It hurt a little. It's something she's in no hurry to ever do again.

We arrived and had our temperatures checked, and were given masks to wear up to the labor and delivery floor. Masks became a constant part of our lives for the three days we were at the hospital. Signs were posted everywhere asking that when someone enters the room, you put your mask back on.

One major difference between the birth of my son and the birth of my daughter 4 years ago, was that guests were not allowed. No family waiting outside to hear the great news. No one coming in to see us in the suite after our baby had been born.

It was just my wife and I, with nurses and doctors coming in to check on us and the baby.

I could pretty much come and go as I pleased. The only thing I had to do was have my temperature checked when I went back in to the hospital. So a trip to check on the dogs wasn't a hassle at all.

This year has been tough all over, for all of us. I'm lucky. Six months and 15 days into what is one of the worst years in modern history, I have something to smile about.

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