Twenty-eight years ago today at 12:18 p.m. I gave birth to my second son.
Labor pains began at 5 a.m., and I lay in bed timing them, remembering the last time I'd felt this way three years before. Fortunately, we were staying with my parents, so they were able to care for our older son, giving us ample time.
Operating on slow, I
brushed my teeth
washed my face
dressed
woke my husband and my mom
(surely called my doctor -- though I don't remember doing so)
finished packing my bag
got in the car
arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later . . .
There, the contractions stopped, and I walked the halls to encourage the baby to make his appearance. (Though I'd had no sonogram to know the baby was a he.)
Since it was a holiday weekend, the hospital operated with a skeleton staff, and the labor and delivery floor was eeriely quiet, quite different than the day I delivered my older son, and a team of student nurses observed my every move.
In the delivery room, Jim and I were alone for what seemed a long time. (Though I know it must have been only a few mintues.) To kill his monotony, Jim pretended to be a sports caster doing a live interview prior to a major sporting event.
"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, here at Research Hospital, awaiting the birth of our child." Turning his imaginary microphone toward me, he asked, "Would you like to say a few words?"
I answered, through clenched teeth, "I don't feel like talking; I'm going to throw up!"
Fortunately, the microphone was imaginary. If it had been real, I would have hit him with it!
He replied, "Sorry, just trying to add a bit of excitement to the moment."
Trust me, there was plenty of excitement for me -- I needed no more!
A few minutes later, with no fan fare, the doctor arrived, and our second son made his appearance, looking just like his older brother.
Today I celebrate his life. He is a handsome young man whom I admire. Though I still try to find the balance between mothering and befriending, I enjoy his company more than he knows. His mere existence makes me smile!
Happy Birthday, son! I love you!
1 comment:
This is such a lovely memory. And it beautifully complements an email I received today from a friend describing the birth of her third child, just ten days ago.
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