And so I walked the neighborhood. It was so warm, I just wore a long-sleeved sweater, and was quite comfortable. (The 25-pound "oven" attached to the front of me probably helped a bit...)
The next evening, we waited until we were sure the pains were not going to disappear, and made the call. When the doctor arrived, the evening turned into a concerto of stringed instruments. Everyone moved around calmly, orchestrated by Dr. Duhart, and when the baby was born, we were thrilled. A girl! It was the happiest moment of my life...
|photo by Tara Haire|
Almost nine years later, I was again about to give birth. I was teaching at a vocational school, and when labor began that afternoon, I told my director, "I won't be here on Monday," and when I told him why, he got hysterical; he wanted me to leave right away--more for his sake than mine, I'm sure. My students had weeks ago given me a shower---they collected money and bought me what every pregnant, fashion-disabled white lady needed: a maternity top made out of snakeskin-styled fabric, in olive-green and black.
However, I had another hysterical man to contend with at home. My husband (a new model; the old one had been cast aside) was deadset against a home delivery, but since the baby was going to come out of my chute and not his, he didn't even have a vote in the matter. As a compromise, he wanted an ambulance waiting in front of the house, its engine running, just in case. I vetoed that idea as well...
When I called Michael at work that evening, to tell him labor had started and reminded him to get film for the camera and Sprite for me (for when I got thirsty during delivery)---the only two things we had left to buy---he went into hyperdrive. In fact, he was so anxious, when I looked out the front door, thinking he had gotten home, I saw he was indeed home. He had driven up into our yard and parked just a few feet from the front door, headlights still on!
But after our son was born--the second happiest day of my life--my husband could not stop blathering about how wonderful home deliveries were. Dr. Duhart was so impressive, the delivery was so low-key, and we had cake and coffee afterwards with the doctor, just like we did with my daughter.
|photo by Kristen Morgan--www.lanierstar.com|
I thought nothing would surpass those two moments---joy-wise---yet when my granddaughter was born, it was a hat-trick. Happiness had come full circle. My daughter and her partner are far better parents than I ever was. They're more patient, more thoughtful, more creative and and more gentle-spirited than I ever was. I am sure I will be in awe of my son's parenting skills if he becomes a father at some point. (But hopefully that won't be for a while...)
Reading Linda O'Connell's post about Mother's Day sent me back in time. I hope that all women have a great Mother's Day today. Whether you gave birth to children, whether you are raising children borne by others, or whether you are kind of filling in as a parent---as a teacher, a social worker, a minister, a neighbor, a friend, an aunt---we all came from a mother. If she is still here with us, celebrate with her. If not, celebrate her memory today.
And after you get teary-eyed over her sentimental post, read Linda's earlier one. It's scary. Cellulite takes over the city! Yikes! Run for your life!
And welcome to my two newest followers. I'v been following one of Tricia Grissom's blogs for a while. I just found out she has four blogs! Wow! I'm impressed. (I can barely keep my one blog going...The other blog is written by my Golden Retriever.) Tricia--thanks. I hope you at least occasionally see something worthwhile here.
And thanks also to The Old Geezer. He has---as of a few minutes ago---2634 followers. Good grief! How does he suck up so many followers to his blog? Let us in on your secret...