It started in late 2019, while my wife was pregnant. It's roughly 2 am, and I hear a gentle "Nate."

She says it in a way that exudes, "I know you and don't want to startle you despite my current situation."

I look at her, puzzled. 

Dazed.

I mumble "huh" as I'm still floating on clouds drifting through my dreams and can't muster any other words.

She whispers, "I think my water broke." Motionless, thoughts race through my mind, "can't be," wait, what!?!," "calm down."

She still has more than thirty days until her due date.

This can't be.

I look at her and ask, "what do you mean your water broke?"

If you're thinking how stupid this question is, you're right.

Very stupid.

Here I am, a man, asking a ridiculous question.

If I were her, I would have said, "well, I have water gushing from my vagina, and I'm pretty certain that I don't pee the bed, so yes, water-is-broken."

She explained what's happening, and we both concluded, water may be broken, we need to go to the hospital.

My mom lives nearby, so I called her.

The early morning I needed her to answer her phone in the middle of the night with her worried mom voice; she didn't.

She was floating on the dream clouds as I was ten minutes prior and didn't give her phone a chance in hell to wake her up.

"How nice that must be," I remark in my head, not daring to say it out loud. 

I'm worse. My phone goes on airplane mode before I go to bed. 

An emergency will get my attention after I wake and get coffee down my throat.

Anyway, my two-and-a-half-year-old son was coming along for the ride.

In a daze from the lack of sleep and adrenaline, we made it to the hospital.

The family was together, Nicky placed in a wheelchair, and off we go.

As we wait for the Doctor, thoughts raced through my mind.

So if her water breaks, "do they patch it up?" "Will Nicolas be born today, thirty days early?"

The last thought concerned be. 

Deeply.

I want him to bake in his mom's oven for as long as he can.

By the time the Doctor came in and explained everything, it was early morning, around 5-6 am.

"You're going to have to be hospitalized for a few weeks."

I laughed inside. 

This is a joke. 

Come on, clowns. 

Come out. 

The trick is over.

She explained the situation, the risk to Nicolas, and that one, Nicolas has to stay in her for as long as possible, but two, we have to be incredibly careful as there's a risk of infection with her broken water.

After over a decade in the business world trenches, my problem-solving brain turned on.

Here's how we'll lay it out.

We'll resolve this problem by doing one, two, and three; however, it didn't address the deep emotions I was feeling.

I felt sad for my two-and-a-half-year-old son, who slept with his mom every night up until that point.

He had to cold turkey that connection for a few weeks.

I get choked up just writing about it.

I felt sad for her, as three weeks is a long time to be away from home.

After weeks of daily commutes, Thanksgiving in a hospital, little Nicolas was born.

She did it.

We did it.

And everyone is stronger because of it.

Once that journey was over, we entered a new chapter of the pregnancy.

Nicolas went into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).

Embrace That Light And Accept The Dark, Life Has Its Many Ups And Downs

When there's light, dark is to follow, and as the darkness rises, the light is likely to bellow.

I thought to myself, well shit, Nicky was in the hospital for 16 days, and now Nicolas is going into NICU, I might as well buy a room next door.

It would be a lot cheaper than what the hospital charges our insurance…$60,000 A DAY!

Nicolas was in NICU for two weeks.

The feeling sucks. I wanted to punch the nurses in the face several times.

Sticking a tube down his nose, washing his hair when my wife wanted to be the first one do to it, and for many other reasons.

It was a mixture of wanting to control the situation and protect Nicolas as they made him cry.

He was alone, boxed in a transparent cage, and we desperately wanted him home.

Once Nicolas got home, we had to navigate months of him having "colic" while I had to plan and execute the transition of my company to get rid of a couple of bad actors and setting the course for the rest of the year.

Stop Complaining. This Is What A Perfect Life Is

This isn't some "ada boy" moment. These aren't problems I look back on and am thankful they're over.

No.

They happened as they were meant to be. There are hundreds of lessons wrapped up in this:

• I had to play a single dad for two-weeks with Noah, my two-year-old son. I'm thankful I have an amazing family and team at Skylink to support me. I'm inspired by single mothers who have to run the ship alone like I had to for a measly two-weeks. Kudos to you ladies and some gents!

• My wife is an incredible woman. There were many times this past year that she iconified strength and love. She's my motivation to do better.

• I learned the hard lessons that our core values and culture at Skylink must be protected. I spent 6-months correcting our WINGS culture. The final half of the year, when the wrong team members were removed, our culture and team have never been stronger, and we surpassed the prior year in all metrics, with a big six-month push.

Many other things happened through the year that were highs and lows. I lost a dear pet. Cried for days. Still do.

Someone on my team said they've never worked for such an incredible company, and they're grateful for this.

Lows. Highs.

I have so many more examples. You may have it a lot worse. Or, a lot better.

Life isn't stagnant.

Life isn't perfect.

Embrace the imperfect perfect life.

Every day you're breathing is a blessing and profound.