I was sitting on a hospital bed waiting. Three hours previously, I had been waiting in my OB's examination room. I'd been confined to bed the week before due to high blood pressure. Medication had failed to bring it down so I'd had to go on maternity leave two weeks early, leaving my students with an incredibly idiotic sub (I wouldn't know how stupid this man was until I returned 3 months later to finish out the school year), and succumbed to doctor's orders to lie on my left side. All the time.
I am a naturally fidgety person. I cannot sit still. And, as most of you know, a woman close to her due date is a busy lady; the desire to nest, to insure that everything is ready to welcome the new baby, is strong and hard to ignore.
"You're having this baby tomorrow. I'm admitting you now," my doctor told me.
"Um, OK, can I call my husband?" Frank had dropped me off and gone back to work, planning on returning to take me home after my appointment.
"Sure. Dial 9 to get an outside line."
"Hi," I said, "Guess what? We're having Evan tomorrow. She's inducing me in the morning. You need to come get me and take me to the hospital. Now."
"Uh, OK. I'll be right there," came my startled husband's reply.
Once we had been admitted and I had been installed in our room, I called my sister. Frank and I were woefully unprepared to go to the hospital. I mean, we both thought we had more time since Evan wasn't due to arrive for another three weeks. I had not packed the proverbial bag, the car seat was still sitting in the guest room, the house was a mess.
Katy, God bless her, drove to our home, packed a bag for both of us and clothes for the baby and brought it to us. She would also be with us in the delivery room throughout my labor.
I remember being too anxious to really sleep. Plus, the hospital is no place for restful relaxation.
And so I waited to meet my boy.
My beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.
My Evan.
I am a naturally fidgety person. I cannot sit still. And, as most of you know, a woman close to her due date is a busy lady; the desire to nest, to insure that everything is ready to welcome the new baby, is strong and hard to ignore.
"You're having this baby tomorrow. I'm admitting you now," my doctor told me.
"Um, OK, can I call my husband?" Frank had dropped me off and gone back to work, planning on returning to take me home after my appointment.
"Sure. Dial 9 to get an outside line."
"Hi," I said, "Guess what? We're having Evan tomorrow. She's inducing me in the morning. You need to come get me and take me to the hospital. Now."
"Uh, OK. I'll be right there," came my startled husband's reply.
Once we had been admitted and I had been installed in our room, I called my sister. Frank and I were woefully unprepared to go to the hospital. I mean, we both thought we had more time since Evan wasn't due to arrive for another three weeks. I had not packed the proverbial bag, the car seat was still sitting in the guest room, the house was a mess.
Katy, God bless her, drove to our home, packed a bag for both of us and clothes for the baby and brought it to us. She would also be with us in the delivery room throughout my labor.
I remember being too anxious to really sleep. Plus, the hospital is no place for restful relaxation.
And so I waited to meet my boy.
My beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.
My Evan.
2 comments:
Happy birth day to you, Missy! Lovely post.
I remember getting your call and me going into hyperdrive mode to make things better. I remember calling my principal and saying,"I will not be here tomorrow- I need a sub. My nephew is being born tomorrow and I am not going to miss any part of it." I loved helping my big sister in her time of need. It was a wonderful birth day!
K
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