Today, my darling daughter turned fourteen. As always, she wanted to hear even more details about the day of her birth, and I thought I'd share a few of them with you. I've already shared her labor and delivery story, and it's icky enough that I don't really want to write about it again. (Needless to say, it's not one of those deliveries they tell you about in LaMaze class)
After DD was born and all cleaned up, we were wheeled back to a birthing room to spend a little time together as a family. Our labor nurse asked if there was anything she could do for us, and I had one request: FOOD. It was now Sunday afternoon, and I hadn't eaten anything since at least Thursday. The nurse chuckled and said that there wasn't any food there except for her brown bag lunch. I told her that I'd happily eat her lunch, and to hand it over.
She got the lunch and I devoured it. I ate so fast that I don't even remember what kind of food it was, except for an apple at the end. We spent the rest of the time speaking with our new daughter, and marveling over how perfect and cute she was. (Looking at the pictures, I realize that she wasn't incredibly cute that day -- she was rather banged up from the birth. But she looked perfect to us) We called our parents to give them the good news.
A nurse came to get DD, give her a shot and take her blood for some test that is required by Massachusetts law. I was hooked up to many, many IV's so I couldn't go. I insisted that Bob go along with DD, because I didn't want her to be out of sight of her parents, and thought that they'd be gentler with her if one of us was there. Unfortunately, Bob has a weak stomach and after watching the heel stick, he spent the rest of the lab time being sick.
An orderly came to wheel me upstairs, and Bob followed, wheeling DD in her plastic bassinette. (We were still too scared to actually walk and hold her at the same time) By the time we made it to my room, there were grandparents a plenty, chomping at the bit to see the newest family member. My father in law, the quietest person on Earth, was openly cheering that he had finally gotten "his girl." (DD is the apple of his eye to this day) My mother in law and my parents all hugged each other in delight that they had "finally" gotten their first grandchild, and they all pressed me as to when the next one was coming. (Give me a break -- this one wasn't even a day old!)
I was still ravenous, so Bob ran to a nearby sandwich shop and got me a jumbo eggplant sandwich and a quart of cranberry juice. I devoured every speck, as well at the hospital food lunch they brought to me as I was just finishing up. I wasn't the only hungry one -- the nurses gave me a teeny little bottle of formula for the baby, but warned me that babies that new don't usually eat. Someone should have told her that: she drained the bottle in record time.
The family stayed and passed the baby around, oblivious to the fact that I had been up for almost four days and had done enough pushing to move a house across the street. Finally, the nurses shooed everyone out and gave me a shot of happy juice. I assume that Bob left after I konked out, because the next thing I remember, it was Monday morning.
Now I had been living with morning sickness since about three seconds after DD's conception. Morning sickness was actually a misnomer - it was also afternoon sickness, evening sickness and wake up in the night to barf sickness. I had become totally accustomed to opening my eyes, clamping a hand over my mouth and racing to the bathroom to "call dinosaurs on the porcelain phone." So, that's what I did. Or started to do. After about four steps, I realized that a miracle had taken place: I didn't have to barf! I sat on the edge of the bed and told DD how amazing that was, and we both had a good laugh at my expense.
A nurse came in and asked me if it was a good time for a bath. Not really in "Mommy mode" yet, I told her that was a great idea and would she put the baby in the nursery until I was done. With an odd look, she wheeled out the bassinet and I hopped in the shower. To this day, I've never again had a shower that felt so wonderful. I also discovered something they don't tell you in the baby books: having a baby does not result in your instantly losing your "buddha belly." I looked like deflated beach ball between the ribs and the knees. Nasty.
Bob had called my office and told them the good news, and the phone was ringing off the hook. Everyone at work called to congratulate me about the baby, and "by the way, since I have you on the phone..." Well, it ended up that I worked from the hospital room that day. Bob, whose enlightened company granted him not one minute of paternity leave, came in late that day to see me crying from exhaustion. The phone was still ringing. He picked up the receiver, determined it was a work call, and blistered the caller's ears. I received no more work related calls. :-)
Yet another nurse came in to make sure that we had figured out the rudiments of baby care. We both had to demonstrate that we could change a diaper and bathe the baby. I think we each took an hour per chore. It makes me laugh now, because by the time DD was done with diapering, I could change even a toxic sucker in about fifteen seconds flat. I filled out the paperwork for DD's birth certificate, and made the hospital secretary crazy with my unreasnable demand that DD's birth certificate actually carry her name (spelled correctly). It took the woman at least four tries to get it right. I also had to insist that my daughter have "my partner's" last name. Somehow she didn't understand that "my partner" was my husband and the baby's father. Go figure.
Our then-pediatrician, who is also a mohel, stopped by to see if we wanted the baby circumscised. When he saw the pink balloons, he discovered that all my predictions had been wrong, and that we had no need for that particular service. It wasn't going to happen anyway -- Bob had wanted it done if the baby were a boy, but instantly dropped his demand when I told him that if he wanted the baby circumscised, he had to be there to watch. :-0 I was always of the opinion that if it ain't broke, don't fix it; and we have no religious requirements for that.
My brother in law came by to visit, and caused a bit of a stir. Imagine Rupert from Survivor and double his size. (Not weight - my BIL is about
6'5") Put him in a leather vest and assorted biker clothing and have him drive an eighteen wheeler. Now imagine the giant scary biker guy holding a teeny pink baby, gurgling and cooing. (he only looks scary - he's really a big marshmallow) The nursery attendant pulled me aside to make sure it was all right that "that giant man" was holding the baby. It was.Monday night at the hospital wasn't exactly peaceful. The woman in the next room was having her seventh(!) baby, and her husband had dropped the six older siblings at the hospital so Mom could watch them while he went to work. Six rambunctious children racing around the maternity ward doesn't make for a good night's sleep. Little did I know that I wasn't going to get a good night's sleep once I got home, either. Somehow I was under the impression that newborns sleep all the time. Silly me.
Tuesday morning came and we were scheduled to go home. Yay! Bob's mother had saved Bob's "going home from the hospital" outfit for all those years, so DD went home dressed as a little boy that day. We had a few moments of nervousness when we were informed that we might not be able to check out - it was twelve below zero, and the hospital was afraid of letting the babies leave in such cold weather. They told me that I was free to go, but DD might have to stay. Yeah, right. We all left together at about 10:00 a.m.
When we got home, the grandmothers were already waiting. Everyone in the house was beside themselves with joy, with one exception: Buckie the Dog. He was furious - he had suddenly been demoted from "spoiled hairy child" to "dog" in one fell swoop. Buckie was never one to harm anyone, but if looks could kill, that crying, bald intruder would have been incinerated on the spot. Even now, when we look at the video, you can tell how angry that dog was. Eventually he got over it - at almost exactly the same time that DD was eating food and dropping crumbs on the floor.
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The past fourteen years have gone by in a flash. Some of the days have been awfully long, but the years are gone before you know it. It hasn't always been easy, but I wouldn't change a moment of it, and I treasure all the memories and stories, both good and not-so-good.
Give someone you love a hug for me tonight, willya?
Kathy N-V