I am doing a project for my granddaughters. I have a book entitled
For My Grandchild, A Grandmother's Gift of Memory. Since they only give you a few lines to answer each question, I've decided to do it my way and write the longer, more complete version. Here is my first essay, the story of Douglas' birth. Although it's been thirty years, I remember this experience like it happened just last week!
On Monday, April 3, 1978 I woke earlier than usual. I was having contractions. This surprised me a bit since it was my due date and I'd heard first babies were almost always late. I decided to let Tom sleep while I made a pot of chili so he wouldn't starve while I was in the hospital. Busily chopping peppers and onions, I wondered how long labor would take. In our childbirth education class they'd shown a movie that portrayed labor dragging on for hours and hours. My mother had had long labors so I figured I was doomed to have a long one, too. By the time I plugged in the slow cooker the contracdtions were stronger and closer together. Suddenly not wanting to be alone, I woke Tom. Excitedly we started timing the contractions and discussing when to call the doctor.
Dr. Yoon's nurse suggested I go in to be checked so around 11:00 a.m. we headed for her office. After the exam she informed Tom, "You have baby today!" and told us to go to the hospital. (The OB nurse in me now wishes I'd asked her how far dilated I was but it'd be several years before I concerned myself with such things.)
Before leaving home Tom discovered our federal income tax had come in the mail and, fearing he'd be stuck in the hospital for endless hours with nothing to eat before the baby was born, he decided to swing by the bank and cash it. As we were pulling up to the drive-through a particularly viscious contraction hit. It was so painful! I couldn't understand why we had to stop there, why we couldn't just go to the hospital and I started to cry. Tom tried to explain but I wasn't hearing any of it. I just hauled off and slugged him. "It hurts so bad!" Fortunately, by then the teller was waiting on us and we were soon on our way.
Arriving at Brown Memorial Hospital, I was wheeled to a labor room by Miss Evelyn Neill, R.N., the Director of Nurses, who commented on what a pretty dress I was wearing. It was powder blue with a white lace yoke and she said, "You must be planning on a having a boy since you're dressed in blue. I assured her that, no, I was counting on having a girl. Since they didn't routinely do ultrasounds then we didn't know the baby's gender. I, however, was certain it was a beautiful little girl named Christy Marie. In fact, we hadn't chosen a boy's name until a week before. After much discussion we'd chosen "Douglas Charles" as our just-in-case boy's name. As the admitting nurse listened to the fetal heart rate I asked her if it sounded like a girl or boy, In childbirth class we'd learned that boys' FHRs were generally slower than girls'. I was absolutely floored to hear her say that the fetal heart rate sounded like those of a boy!
By now my contractions were much stronger and more painful. Tom was in Admitting filling out paperwork and the nursing staff was occupied with a delivery. I was alone. The contractions came harder and faster. All of a sudden I felt a gush of warmth and wetness. The pad under me was soaked with amniotic fluid.
With the rupture of the amniotic sac the pains were excruciating, coming in grinding waves that threatened to overwhelm me. "Oh, God," I begged, "help me now." Finally a nurse came down the hall and glanced in my room. Suddenly she stopped. "Are you pushing?" she demanded, alarm on her face.
"I feel like I have to have a bowel movement," I grunted. Quickly she checked me and hurried out.
In the meantime, Tom had finished admitting me. Needing to answer the call of nature, he headed into the restroom, only to be confused by the sight of a sanitary napkin dispenser on the wall. It wasn't until he saw two women chuckling outside the restroom that he realized in his excitement he'd wandered into the women's restroom!
Upstairs at last, Tom tiptoed into my room and smiled at me. "I'm so glad you're here," I exclaimed. "Please don't say anything, just be with me."
"Ok," he agreed and immediately launched into the story of his misadventure in the restroom. I smiled inside and let him chatter.
Two nurses hurried in and hastily wheeled me into the delivery room. I wasn't afraid, just desperate to have the pain end. Tom positioned himself at the head of the delivery table and place his hands on either side of my face. They felt wonderfully cool on my hot cheeks. Everything had happened so quickly he hadn't had a chance to do any of the coaching we'd learned about, but I was so grateful for his presence.
At last Dr. Yoon said I could push and push I did, with all my might. To my utter delight, and miracle of miracles, at precisely 1:11 p.m. a warm, wet baby exploded from my body and out into the world. He was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen., I adored him immediately and have been crazy in love with him ever since.
At visiting hours that evening Tom brought me a vase with two flowers in it. One was an open rose representing, he said, my life which was already in bloom and a tightly furled rosebud, symbollizing Douglas' life which was just beginning.
Each evening of the six fdays we were in the hospital I would ask Tom if he'd eaten any of the chili I'd prepared and each evening he'd say no, he'd eaten at his mother's or my mother's or somebody had brought him supper. The night before we were to be discharged he decided he'd better eat some of it. Much to his surprise, cooking in the slow cooker for six days had rendered the chili so hot even the dog wouldn't eat it. Needless to say, the next time I went into labor I did not make chili!
some I've forgotten or didn't know the name of.
