The Parent Trip: Emma Segal and Michael Leech of South Philadelphia

Emma's first thought about Michael was how much he resembled his older brother Jimmy. Her second thought - more of a feeling, really - was that she wanted to know him better.

But this was a condolence call - Emma was paying her respects at the Leech family home one day after Jimmy's death in December 2009 - so she put that spark on hold. Emma had lost grandparents before, but this was the first death of a friend, and she didn't know what to expect.

"It was more relaxed than I thought it would be. We talked about Jimmy and a million other things." After that night, she and Michael began texting and talking on the phone. He was dating someone, and Emma wasn't interested in being anyone's "other girl."

Still, they were drawn together: a shared sarcastic sense of humor, the same zest for partying and hanging out with friends. Emma worried that Michael, at 20, was too young to make a long-term commitment: "Are you sure," she asked, "that you want to jump into a relationship that might last forever?"

After a few months of dating, it was clear to both the answer was yes.

For Emma, kids were a no-brainer. "When my sister was born, I was 4, and I thought I was her mom." At 10, Emma became a mother's helper; she has a degree in early-childhood education and works as a nanny.

Besides, she had read cautionary tales of women who waited too long and then had trouble conceiving. "I was talking about it 24/7: I need kids, and I need them now." But Michael, a diesel mechanic, wanted to wait until they were more financially secure.

His solution? A Boston terrier puppy they dubbed Mack in honor of the trucks Michael repairs. "He was my baby, spoiled rotten," Emma says. "Clothes. Treats. He probably has more clothes than I do." A year later, when her baby-fever spiked again, they got Roxy, a pit bull. They also replaced their queen-size bed with a king, spacious enough for two adults and two dogs.

"It was twice the amount of poop, twice the vet bills. But they pretty much entertain each other. And it put babies in the back of my mind for a while."

Not forever, though. Early last year, Emma felt convinced she was pregnant, though a dozen drugstore test kits said otherwise. Finally, after work one Tuesday, she tried one more test, then called Michael at work to spill the news: "I'm pregnant!"

It was an uneventful nine months - no morning sickness, no heartburn, just some discomfort from swelling feet. Emma's only irritation was the steady stream of unsolicited advice. "As a first-time mom, people assume you're clueless. But I've been taking care of babies for a long time."

She approached birth with pragmatic restraint: "The only birth plan I had was to go into labor and get my epidural when I couldn't handle it anymore. I tried not to overload myself with too many expectations."

At Emma's 36-week checkup, the midwife noted she was already three centimeters dilated and 70 percent effaced. "He could be here this weekend," she said, and Emma felt a wash of alarm: Already?

But the baby remained resolute until his due date. After nine hours of labor at Pennsylvania Hospital, Emma began pushing. With every contraction, the baby's heart rate dropped, gradually climbing back into the normal range. Until it didn't.

"All these nurses came in and pushed me out of the way," Michael recalls. "They thought if they didn't get him out, he wouldn't be here." He felt his own heart seize in panic. Within minutes, Emma was whisked to an operating room for an emergency C-section. She remembers a crush of doctors and nurses, someone yelling to page pediatrics, a shot of general anesthesia. "I didn't get to hear him cry for the first time. I was heartbroken over that."

Michael, still distraught, waited outside the operating room. "They sat me in a little cubicle, and after a while, a nurse handed me a baby. I thought: 'This kid looks nothing like me.' Then they pushed some woman next to me. I said, 'Excuse me. This isn't my kid. This isn't my wife.' "

Finally the right infant landed in his lap. "I looked down at his features and thought: 'That's definitely my baby.' My heart started beating again.

"I didn't think [parenthood] would really change me. But it makes you grow up fast." He proposed to Emma on New Year's Day, kneeling in the parking lot of a Pantry 1 Food Mart where they'd met early in their courtship. They plan to marry in October.

And there are everyday changes. Michael has always been hot-tempered; now he checks himself before blurting something angry at a boss or coworker. "I'll think: I can't do that. I have a baby." He has already taught his son the quizzical glance that greets a goofy comment from Emma. "I'll put my eyebrows up, like, 'That crazy Mommy.' Now he'll put his eyebrows up and stare at her."

They had both wanted a boy. And as soon as Emma learned the baby's sex, at a 15-week ultrasound, she and Michael knew they would name him for Jimmy. Not the exact name - James Charles Leech III - but a "J" name that would evoke Jimmy's largehearted spirit. He was the big brother, after all, the kid whose troublemaking Michael longed to mimic, the man who would haul a friend's refrigerator down three flights of stairs as a favor.

They hope Jace Anthony will carry on his uncle's strength and generosity.

For now, he has Jimmy's irises: blue, then green, then hazel, a shifting palette of past and future. "The first time your kid opens his eyes, you think about everything completely differently," Michael says. "I look in his eyes and remember looking into my brother's eyes when I was younger."

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