It was in this house that Brandon came into the family. Super Baby. The pregnancy was text book as was the delivery. It was the precursor that was a little unusual.
Don was in my bad books the week I was to deliver, so I called upon my mother to accompany me in the delivery room. Don ended up being present anyway, so we had quite a party going on.
When labor started, Mom and I trekked off to the hospital. I sat up in the hospital bed with my long shiny dark hair cascading down my back, doing my nails and chatting with my mother, looking like anything but in labor. The doctor came in and announced, “You’re not in labor; you’re going home.” Well, it just so happened that the next day was Friday 13 and there was no way I was having a baby on such an unlucky day. In my state I was figuring his/her birthday would be Friday 13 every year. Women don’t think too clearly when they are in labor. So I argued that yes, I WAS in labor and I wasn’t going anywhere. I was going to have this baby tonight. I was going to will it to be born before midnight. The doctor said all right, but he was leaving for the night and going out for dinner because he didn’t believe me.
They gave me an enema, just in case.
There was a heart monitor next to the bed to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. Well, my mother bores easily and when she’d had enough of listening to the baby’s heartbeat, which was strong and healthy, she asked, why not we listen to hers? Hers was pretty good too. Then it was my turn. First of all, we couldn’t find it. When we did, it sounded like an old motor boat dying out, then coming back, limping its way to shore. Baboom. Stop. Baboom. Stop. We started to laugh hysterically, while I tried to ask, “Am I dead?” At this point I really wished they hadn’t given me the enema. I had to control all that while laughing so hard. A doctor stuck his head in the door wondering what was so funny. He didn’t smile, but wrote something on his clip board. (two nut bars?)
Mom was getting worried now. She ran out of the room looking for a cardiologist. How does one get a cardiologist just by wanting one? but she did, she got one. Mom wanted my heart checked NOW. He came with his chart; didn’t say anything but kept writing notes on his clipboard, in between darting glances at me.
It wasn’t too much longer that labor really started to get serious. Mom panicked. She ran up and down the halls calling for a doctor. Seems they were all in the delivery room delivering babies. She approached a janitor and asked him to come and help deliver my baby. He informed her, “I’m just the janitor.” Understandable error on her part, since he wore a familiar blue outfit, like a doctor. The broom should have given her a clue, however.
They had a delivery room for us when the moment came. Brandon popped out screaming. Doctors were called from every corner of the hospital to see his amazing lung capacity. He had the body of a football player. He was magnificent.
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