I 
            went to bed, without telling Brad what had transpired. The next morning 
            I woke up after Brad left for work. I took another test (yes, I really 
            am that prepared) and sat on the bed. The stick, across the room, 
            sat near my sink. It didnt sparkle or play music. It didnt 
            light up. But when I checked it five minutes later, there was one 
            blue line. And a very, very faint second pink line.
          Fortunately 
            I got in to the doctor right away, and I found out that I was indeed 
            pregnant. I drove to Brads office and told him the news. We 
            sat in my gray Honda Civic, the first car we bought together, and 
            cried tears of joy.
          That 
            was the beginning of "the moment."
          Now 
            fast forward through about nine months of morning sickness, swollen 
            ankles, baby showers, strangers touching my belly, the bliss of having 
            doors opened for me and things carried for me, a strange creature 
            kicking me from the inside out and dreams of what was going to take 
            place on my sons birthday, and push play at about 4:30 a.m. 
            Saturday, Oct. 27, 2001. 
          I 
            woke up with an unusual feeling in my belly. Even though I had experiencef 
            lots of strange feelings in the last nine months, I wondered if this 
            was a contraction. After several hours of the pain, I was convinced 
            that labor had begun  about two weeks early.
          Brad 
            and I had for months planned an OU-Nebraska football watch party at 
            our house that day. So being the true Sooner fans that we are, we 
            had the party anyway. We even left at one point during the game to 
            go to the hospital to get checked and see how my labor was going. 
            Even though they sent us home, they confirmed that our son would be 
            born sometime "soon."
          After 
            only two hours of sleep the next night, at about 12:30 a.m. Sunday, 
            my contractions got closer and a lot more painful. Brad and I left 
            for the hospital at about 2:30 a.m. It was a surreal feeling when 
            we left the house because we knew the next time we would be home, 
            it wouldnt be just the two of us any more. "We" would 
            be three.
          After 
            convincing the nurses that I wasnt going home this time, getting 
            checked in, having pitossin administered (a drug that jumpstarts contractions 
            to speed up labor), and managing through two hours of the worst pain 
            Ive ever felt, I got an epidural. I was once again a happy camper. 
            I even toyed with the thought of naming our son after the doctor who 
            took my pain away.
          Brad 
            and my best friend Michelle sat by my side the whole day until it 
            was time to push. I pushed for about an hour it would have been 
            shorter, but I had to wait on the doctor.
          Then 
            "the moment" culminated at 4:20 p.m. Sunday, Oct. 28, 2001 
            in an emotional feeling of extraordinary accomplishment, relief and 
            the strongest feeling of love that you can imagine  times 100.
          My 
            son, Ryan Glenn Sutherlin, was born.
          I 
            looked at him as his tiny body emerged from mine. I watched as the 
            doctor wiped him off and then laid him on my chest. I watched as Brad 
            cut the cord that had attached him to me for the last nine months. 
            I watched as his eyes caught mine for the first time, as if to say, 
            "So thats what you look like. Ive been imaging you 
            for all this time. I could hear your voice, feel you move, and know 
            of your love, but I wondered about your face."
          My 
            life changed as I stared at Ryan. My dreams about my little boy were 
            now reality. He had beautiful blue eyes, his daddys nose, hands 
            and feet, and my mouth and chin. Theres no mistaking it. 
          I 
            counted his fingers and toes and I examined the rest of his 8 lbs 
            6 oz body. Thank you, God. He was perfect.
          In 
            that moment, I became Ryans Mommy, my most important title of 
            all. It doesnt matter what else I do with my life. All that 
            matters is what I am to him and to Brad.
            Our little family of three has been home for a couple of months now. 
            Ryan is 12 lbs 3 oz and in the 97th percentile in his age for his 
            height. He loves his bath, he loves his bink, he loves to sleep on 
            his back with his arms stretched out above his head. He makes happy 
            coos and gurgles, he looks at us and follows us when we move around 
            the room and he smiled at us for the first time the week before Christmas. 
            Now we cant get him to stop smiling. 
            
          These 
            may seem like trivial things to some of you, but to me, they are everyday 
            signs of the grace of God. I still am in awe and unbelievable amazement 
            of this person who He sent us. 
            Love is inadequate to describe the overwhelming feelings I have for 
            my son. But I know as we gaze into each others eyes that he 
            can see my love for him. Its simple but beautiful. Ryan came 
            from my womb and has landed in the middle of my heart.
          
            Michelle 
            Sutherlin is a friend of Omars. They became friends and co-workers 
            at the University of Oklahoma. 
            She is a staff writer for The Norman Oklahoman, but that title isnt 
            so important to her anymore. She prefers the title of Ryans 
            Mommy. If you would like to get in touch with her, her address is 
            msutherlin@mmcable.com.