Summer in Ohio is sweltering and the summer of '88 was no exception. At least it felt that way as I sported a most impressive girth that year. I had reached the final stretch of my second pregnancy which by all accounts had been uneventful. I worked 15-20 hours a week caring for a delightful 90 year old woman throughout most of that time until I became so enormous even she could not bear to watch me work. My measurements continued to increase, causing the due date to change twice. With my history of preterm labor we assumed the baby would make his appearance earlier vs later so the growth wasn't a big concern of mine. Not until August wore on with no sign of impending delivery.
I arrived at my 40 week appointment measuring a fantastically large number which I will not publish here. I fully expected to be induced and half-welcomed the prospect because I knew in my heart this was not the pound baby I had carried the first time. However the resident who examined me rushed along distractedly and sent me on my way. I remember telling myself that surely I would go into labor eventually and probably it didn't look as bad as I thought.
The rooms at the clinic were set up in trios. The doctor's offices were in the center of each, with two exam rooms flanking them. I quietly and redressed and exited the exam room from the hall door that day. As I passed the office I heard the young Dr saying to the nurse, "Have you ever SEEN a belly that big??" My heart sank along with my hopes of imminent labor and I lumbered home.
The late 80's were my vegetarian period, which husband may remember as The Tofu Years. He was not a fan of soybean curd let's just say. In fact, he was certain he had an allergy to it. I was certain he did not because he only had violent reactions BEFORE eating it. A pre-emptive 'allergy' of sorts. I made green bean casserole that night with pureed tofu hidden inside. I had come to hide it in a lot of things, more or less successfully. About halfway through dinner husband was on to the covert casserole strategy however and he responded with exceptional vigor this night, sure I was killing him.
As the evening wore on his complaints grew louder along with the assertion that the tofu was to blame. It was a deathly still and humid August evening in Ohio and I was toting an internal watermelon of a belly. I was not in the mood. I suggested he go to bed and that I intended to do just that.
I slept very hard that night. The next clear memory I have was the phone ringing at dawn. The voice on the other end was that of a friend of ours who worked in the emergency room. He told me he had Allen there. I was annoyed and confused. What?? No you don't he is right…… gone. I struggled upright and tried to recall what had happened. Did he wake me up in the night? Something about his stomach? Something about a doctor? I thought it was a dream. I told him to go back to sleep. I think. But he hadn't. He had gone up to the hospital where they discovered an appendix in need of surgery. Oh. My. Stars.
Calls went out in rapid succession. First, to my mother in law who had been planning to come for the birth. Next, to friends who would take baby Colin until she arrived to relieve them. I packed and shuttled him to their place and headed over to the hospital where husband was quite, um, heavily medicated. I was terrified. I had begun to contract and was feared I would be delivering without him. 'Cause at 41 weeks in the heat it was all about me, you know, lol.
The surgery progressed and the contractions did the same. We got word that mother in law had arrived and friends were taking Colin back home. Husband was deposited in the recovery room much happier and quickly became lucid and more comfortable by the hour. I was becoming less of both and had this sneaking suspicion my water was breaking. Husband declared we would go over to L and D to check it out. He worked there, at that point in our lives, and got me into a room and examined. Yes, it was that and, in those days, when your water broke, you did not leave that room pregnant. I was admitted and given a gown to match his. Things were going from the sublime to the ridiculous faster than you can say 'overdue.'
Because husband had connections in the department he was allowed to stay with me throughout the remaining six hours of truly agonizing labor. He held his own 'til the very end when the nurse noticed him looking as pale as I and insisted on pain medication. Percoset as I recall. I stared in horror as she gave him not one but two, certain he would pass out before the birth. He did not, and very soon it was time to push. And push we did.
The staff and husband all tried to convince me the baby's head was crowning. I was skeptical. I knew I was feeling feet at my ribs yet. The whole thing was disconcerting and I wasn't sure what was happening. In the end it was exactly what it felt like. I delivered a strapping 9lb 6oz, 22inch long boy. Zachary always did do things up big and theatrically <g> Likes to make an entrance, this one does.
Husband and I recovered quickly and the three of us were discharged together later that weekend. That boy is 22 today with a young life full of stories as wild and unbelievable as this one. It has been a merry ride indeed, hasn't it Z? We love you and wish desperately we were all together this day.
God bless you as you begin another year my boy! No matter how old you get you are always your Mama's boy.
Links: Child of Mine
Starry Sky Journal 