9 years ago today I had been lying in the hospital for 3 days, awaiting the birth of my daughter, fondly known around here as Thing 1.
My due date was still 2 weeks off when The Caveman and I went to our town’s Strawberry Fest. It was sweltering hot that day and parking was scarce so there was a steamy trek involved. I groaned and complained like all good pregnant women and made sure to replenish my energy stores by eating my weight in all things strawberry: donuts, sundaes, chocolate-dipped, you name it I ate it. Later that night, profuse bleeding sent us speeding to Labor & Delivery. I terrified myself with images of placenta abruption among other horrendous possibilities.
An ultrasound indicated baby was happy but the doc decided to induce. The wait began. Pitocin was involved. More waiting, more Pitocin. Like the Friends episode where Rachel and Ross have their baby, I could see women go rolling past my door in labor, then out again, cooing baby in arms, but there I waited. Nothing. Saturday turned to Sunday. Sunday turned to Monday.
At last on Monday afternoon, membranes were stripped, water broke and labor began with a vengeance. But this baby was still in no hurry. The pushing stage commenced around 9pm. When it got to be 11:30 and still no baby, I refused to be preggo another day. Thing 1 was born–at last–at 11:46 that night. But the excitement didn’t end there. The cord was wrapped tightly around her neck and she wasn’t breathing. She was whisked away and the NICU team was called. I just knew in my heart she’d be fine and she was. I heard her cries shortly after and our lives were changed forever.
