Twelve Hours

(Note:  The part of Prince Eric will now be played by Wolverine.  My son-in-law was unhappy with his allonym and asked that it be changed into something more suitable to his personality.  After tossing out several of his suggestions, including KILLFACE, I reluctantly agreed to Wolverine.)


Thursday, July14


8:44 am.

Somewhere a cat is meowing...wait...that's not a cat...it's the ringtone of my cell phone, still in my jeans pocket in the closet.  I try to focus my sleepy eyes on the clock beside the bed.  The meowing stops, but almost simultaneously, the house phone rings.  Suddenly wide awake with expectation, I glance at the caller ID...YES!  It's Ariel!  And the only reason Ariel would be calling this early would be...

The baby's coming!

Excitement spurs me into action.  My first grandchild will be born today!  Let's see...priorities...call Fred, bathe, dress, pack the laptop, the camera, an overnight bag just in case; put down plenty of food and water for Jude and Spooky; call the relatives; put out the alert on Facebook.

My first grandchild.  My baby is having a baby.  My baby...

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It's 1983, and I'm rolling out of bed late, almost 9:00.  Today is my due date...and laundry day.  Lacking our own washer and dryer, we must make a run to the laundromat.  But wait...something's wrong, very wrong...or very, very right.  It's just a little trickle, but I can't seem to control it.  Fred takes a small load of necessities to the laundromat while I place a call to my midwife.  She instructs me to come to the hospital...my water may be leaking, rather than breaking, but they'll need to check...

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11:58 am

Ariel looks as beautiful as ever, lying half asleep on her side, courtesy of some good drugs.  Wolverine is calm, definitely not the stereotypical harried father-to-be of tv and movies.  "Are your parents on their way?" I ask, and he assures me they'll be leaving Pennsylvania as soon as his father gets a little sleep. Wolverine (Lord, whatever possessed me to agree to that name?)  refuses our offer to bring food or take a break; he rummages through his bag and messages Ariel's back with a funky little bug of a vibrator.  She's dilated to 3, her water has broken, and the contractions are regular and occasionally strong.  Watching the fetal monitor, I announce now and then, "Ooh, there's a good one!  Good thing you can't feel it."  Ariel opens her eyes to glare at me and tell me she CAN feel it.

Oops.

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1983, and I'm in my hospital gown, attached by various wires and tubes to alien devices.  A doctor I don't know comes in to check me and confirms that my water is, indeed, leaking.  I'm dilated to 4, but the contractions, though sometimes strong, are not yet regular.  "You must have a high threshold for pain," he says, as a strong one washes over me, and I simply watch in amazement the little spikes on the fetal monitor.  Doc decides he will start a Petocin drip.  NOW I am in pain.  The nurse tells me I can have "a little something" if I'd like.  "No, I'm having natural childbirth," I begin, and she assures me it's just a little something to take the edge off; it will help me relax and won't affect the baby at all.  "Alright," I reluctantly agree, and in a matter of minutes, I'm half asleep.  I can hear Fred and Mama conversing, speaking excitedly when I have a strong contraction.  "I'm so glad she can't feel it," I hear Mama say.

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2:19 pm

In a fair amount of pain, Ariel has asked for and received her epidural.  She has dilated to five, but no longer feels pain, only pressure. Wolverine is at her side, helping her to turn from side to side every half hour.   It's cold in the room, and I've had my jacket zipped up for hours. Wolverine is shivering.  I suggest he run to Walmart and buy a hoodie, but no, he'll stay right where he is, thank you very much.

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1983, and the contractions are getting stronger and lasting longer.  Fred helps me breathe through them.  Natural childbirth - what the heck was I thinking?!  This HURTS!  Fred periodically nibbles on snacks from my bag.  I am allowed only ice chips, and I shiver even as my dry mouth relishes them.

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4:59 pm

Ariel is still dilated to 5, so Fred suggests we go out for dinner.  Incredibly organized, Ariel has compiled a list of all restaurants in the area and their proximity to the hospital.  So many choices....

Fred:  "Just tell me where Cracker Barrel is."

Before we leave, I take off my jacket and hand it to Wolverine.  "It's not very manly, but at least it has long sleeves."   The sleeves, far too long for my short stubby arms, are a much better fit on him.

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1983...I thought I was prepared for this.  We did Lamaze classes, I read all the books, watched Gloria Stivic give birth on All In the Family.  She was hilarious; how come nobody ever talked about just how much it HURTS?  Exhausted, cold, and hungry, I try focusing on the baby...will it be a boy or a girl?...and feel renewed strength surge through my body.  I can do this, I can do this...

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7:20 pm

Fred is upset because I didn't wait downstairs for him while he parked the car and smoked.  "My daughter is in labor, and I'm not missing it," I tell him hotly.  Cracker Barrel had a few long sleeved pullovers: bright orange UT, blue MTSU Raiders, and a bejeweled spectacle with birds and flowers and a biblical verse.  We've bought the MTSU shirt and now present it to Eric Wolverine, who accepts it gratefully and returns my jacket.

Ariel is tired and hungry, but still feels no pain.  This epidural thing is a miracle. 

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1983...I can no longer sleep between contractions; they're too close together.  One begins as quickly as another ends.  This natural childbirth is a crock.

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8:21 pm

The doctor comes in to check Ariel and finds she's fully dilated and ready to push!  I am once again amazed that Ariel has gotten to this point without the pain I experienced.  Amazed but grateful.  "Who's staying in the room?" the nurse asks, and Wolfy (there, that's better) speaks up immediately:  "Just the two of us."  I'm secretly relieved they had already discussed this.  "The next time I see you, you'll be a mommy," I say, as my eyes blur with tears.

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It's 1983.  Yet another doctor has come to check my progress.  This is one of the downfalls of having no health insurance:  the midwife I've been seeing at the public health department these many months is not allowed to deliver my baby; no, my baby will be brought into this world by a doctor I've never even met.  He seems friendly enough and informs me a young intern will be assisting.  "You can come in, too, Grandma," the nurse tells Mama as she wheels my bed down the long hallway.  "NO!" I want to scream.  I love my mother, but I want this to be a private moment between myself and my husband.  And the doctor.  And the nurse.  And the young intern.

But I'm too shy and polite to speak up, so Mama dons a gown and joins us in the delivery room.

The urge to push has become uncontrollable, yet takes such a long, long time.  "There, now look right there," the doctor finally says to the young intern.  "Do you think she needs an episiotomy?"

"I DO!" I yell, surprising myself.

"Well, the lady thinks so, so let's do it."  The pressure is so great, I never even feel the cut. 

"Okay, look up at the mirror...your baby is coming!"   I want to see this...I've been waiting for this moment all my life, but the young intern is in the way, and once again, I am too shy and polite to ask him to move.  I miss the moment.

"It's a girl!"  At 9:04 pm, Ariel is placed gently in my arms.  Oh my goodness!  Never in my life have I felt such a surge of pure joy, such an overwhelming force of emotion.  This 5 pound, 5 ounce strawberry blonde bundle holds such power as to overcome all memories of pain, all feelings of exhaustion and cold and hunger.  I touch her ears, her nose, her smooth skin, and I lift her tiny hands and marvel at her fingers.  She is quite perfect, my baby...

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8:44 pm

After twenty minutes of pushing, Zoey is born!

We've actually waited quite a while.  It seems little Zoey swallowed quite a bit of amniotic fluid and had a bit of trouble breathing, so she was whisked immediately away to the nursery.  Wolfy is there with her, the nurse informs us, and suggests that Fred go there while I see Ariel.  "Looks like she's got your red hair, Grandma!" the nurse calls.

Ariel is tired, cold, and hungry, but all she wants is to hold her baby.  "7 pounds, 10 ounces, and strawberry blonde hair," she says happily. "She has my eyes."  I keep her company for a bit, then head for the nursery. A man who looks like Santa Claus is hurriedly motioning.  "Better hurry if you want to see the baby!" he calls, and even though I have no idea who he is, I rush as quickly as my injured knee and feet will allow. Once there, he takes me around the corner, PAST Fred, and shows me his own newborn grandson.

That's one proud grandfather.

And Fred is another.  He's hogging the good spot for picture taking through the nursery window.  Using his cell phone.  Hey!  I've got the REAL camera, let me do it!  But he needs pictures on his phone to send his sisters, his cousin, his friends.

Zoey is directly in front of us, the nurse moving her arms and legs and jotting notes on her clipboard.  "She looks so cold," I say to Fred, noting her blue feet and hands, but they gradually warm to match the soft pink of her face and torso.  Wolverine is hovering over her, love written plainly on his face, and Zoey is holding his finger.

It's almost 3 1/2 hours before Zoey is brought into Ariel's new room.  I won't get to hold her tonight.  It's late, and Fred has been awake 21 hours.  Ariel has to investigate Zoey's ears, her nose, her tiny fingers and toes, and then have her first lesson in breastfeeding.  I'll hold her Sunday.

Twelve hours.  Twelve hours that forever changed my life.  Twelve hours that changed my daughter's life.  Twelve hours that I will never forget.

Welcome to the world, Zoey.

In Daddy's arms...3 days old.

Holding Mommy's finger.

Daddy loves his little girl.

Perfect profile.

And now....

...from Zoey's first professional photo shoot, by Sweet Sarah Photography.  Sarah is WONDERFUL.  See more of her work here:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sweet-Sarah-Photography/211665298869196

The End Beginning.