I Shall Call Her, Mini-Me

I'm comfortable enough with my manhood to say this: I love my brother-in-law Rob. Always have. Ten years ago, my sister brought her new boyfriend to the Bottom Half in Lawrenceville, where Dean Gray and I, immersed in a state of drunkeness that only the night before Thanksgiving can provide, gave him the once over and agreed that he seemed alright. Ever since that day, Rob has been a whole lot more brother than he has in-law.

So it's with the utmost respect that I pose the following question: How does a guy who bears such a striking resemblence to Dr. Evil produce such undeniably beautiful offspring?

Come on...you know you've noticed it before. You've hung out with Rob, kept it all inside, then as soon as you left the room, turned to your sibling/spouse/imaginary friend, put your pinky finger to your mouth, and joked, "It's fricking freezing in here Mr. Bigglesworth." And then you all had a big laugh.

Well guess who's having the last laugh? That's right, Big Shot Bob. Because not only did he incredibly outkick his coverage by marrying my smart, beautiful, caring sister, and not only has he developed into a damn fine triathlete, but he has now managed to not once, not twice, but THREE times defy the laws of genetics.

It is with overwhelming pride that I introduce to you Megan Elizabeth Balerna. Born today during the fourth quarter of the 1:00 games (that's how we Nitti's keep time on Sundays), Megan came into the world at 8 pounds and 2 ounces, meaning she's already one-quarter the size of her treadmill-obsessed father. She's beautiful, she's healthy, and she's lucky to have two big sisters to look after her. Oh yeah, and like all babies born in the last month, she's never seen a Philadelphia Eagles victory. We can only wonder if she ever will.

My sister is doing wonderful. She's the toughest person I know, and she proved it once again by delivering despite a nasty, lingering cold. I would have loved to have been able to include a picture of the proud mother with her baby, but all the images I've been privy to would require this blog to adopt a PG-13 rating.

Pregnancy and childbirth are wildly unpredictable. It seems as though every 16-year old girl with more estrogen than common sense can get pregnant despite taking every precaution, while at the same time, so many ready, willing, and deserving women who are just begging to take that step into motherhood can't seem to make the miracle happen.

As you may or may not know, this process has not been easy for my sister. Karen has endured a lot of tough times, and we've all hurt with her. But she never quit, never took no for an answer, never accepted the heartless advice of apathetic doctors. And look at her now. Blessed with three angels and enough memories of adversity to ensure that she will never take one moment with them for granted.

So Karen, from all of us who love you, from all of us who've suffered to watch you suffer, from all of us who are in awe of your strength, this is for those doctors who said, "some women just aren't meant to have children."
As I'm sure you know, Lauren and I wish we could be there. We love and miss you, Rob, Leah, and Steph, and we look forward to making the acquaintance of Megan Elizabeth.

Finally, I'd like to close by saying to Dean and Erica, you're officially out of the on-deck circle. Step into the batters box.