Aaron, come here.  Before you leave there's something I .. we need to talk.

It's about your father.  I can't bear to keep the truth from you anymore so before you go away to Rutgers I have to tell you something.  You see, your father did not walk out on us when you were a baby.

Your father died during childbirth.

We always knew we wanted to have children but I couldn't stand to be pregnant.  I was afraid of pregnancy!  You know how they portray pregnancy in the Lifetime films.  It always ends in miscarriage or alcoholism or both.  So we found the best surgeon in Ghana and had our baby put in your father's belly.  That baby was you!

Oh, everyone told us it would never work.  It had never been done before.  A pregnant man?  The engineers told us it was against physiology and the Quakers told us it was against God.  Yes, we used to be a Quaker family.  We were excommunicated.  But despite the warnings of all the so-called experts, the pregnancy took. And it went well.

It went so well, in fact, that it gave your father the confidence to decide that he'd only have a completely natural childbirth.  No drugs, no surgery, no bells or whistles.  It was to be him, a midwife, and your grandmother's old bronze tub.  What could I say to convince him that he should be in a hospital during labor?  It was his body, so it was his choice.

The day finally came.  Your father's water broke all over his maternity Dockers.  For four hours he lay in that tub, occasionally taking walks while holding my hand.  His weiner hole was an inch and a half dilated when his groin exploded.

That's why I taught you to call him Pop.

You survived.  You were 10 pounds, 7 ounces of screaming babe.  My little miracle.  I miss your father every day.  I hope you understand that I only lied to protect you.  And now you know the truth.  Again, I am really very sorry.

Wow, look at me crying like a sap.  You go on to Rutgers, now, and hit those books.  Love you!