Showing posts with label Celebrations. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 10, 2023

Day 10: Best Mother's Day Gift

My late first husband, Rich, and I wanted a family. I was 30 years old, and he was 25 when we married so we knew we couldn’t wait a long time to start. I was so regular; I knew right away when I was first pregnant. We both smoked but after seeing a commercial in which the baby also “smoked” through the placenta, I said: “We quit cold turkey.”

Nicotine withdrawal and hormonal changes are challenging enough but I also had to give up caffeinated coffee. Rich and I suffered together and somehow survived most of the awful cravings. I indulged in one: chocolate.

My obstetrical practice had a midwife, and I wanted her to deliver our baby. Rich totally supported the idea. We had all the usual prenatal visits and midwife Ellen thought my due date would be May 1, 1987. Rich and I took birthing classes, wanting this to be a natural process. We practiced touch relaxation and the different types of breathing.

Meanwhile, I was growing larger. Quitting cigarettes and coffee had led to another addiction: candy.

I always enjoyed walking. Rich and I used to walk together all the time, but he was working long hours now at a market research company. I would get up early and go for a long walk in our neighborhood after he’d gone to work. Still, I felt big and awkward.

Rich told me there was a baby pool at work. People were choosing dates beginning in April and going into May. I thought it amusing until he told me he’d chosen Mother’s Day, May 10^th. Oh no, I moaned. I didn’t want to go that long. My due date was May 1, it was the first week of April, and I was already to go NOW.

Our baby had different ideas. We’d had a couple of ultrasounds and Ellen asked if we’d like to know the baby’s sex. We both said NO, we wanted to be surprised. We’d picked out names for either sex.

I was seeing Ellen every week at this point. I was eager to go into labor, but the baby felt just fine floating in my womb. Ellen suggested walking more often, and so I did. I went for long walks twice a day.

On May 9, I started out on my usual walk, stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk and went down. The mail carrier had just pulled up and he totally panicked, running to my side. He wanted to call for an ambulance, and I was trying to calm him. I was OK, I said. He helped me to my feet. I’d ripped my pants at the knees, and I could feel blood trickling down.

The mail carrier insisted on escorting me back to the apartment I shared with Rich. I assured him over and over that I was ok and yes, yes, I would sit down and rest. When he left, I went into the bathroom and washed my scraped knees, put some antibiotics on, and band-aids.

I changed my jeans and headed back out to walk. My route went from our block to the next block of apartments and then into the neighborhood of houses. I was strolling along, enjoying the fresh air and greeting other moms walking their babies in strollers. I was leaving the apartment complex when I heard a shout: “HEY! What are you doing out here?”

It was the concerned mail carrier. He couldn’t believe I was out walking again. I’m OK, I’m fine, I assured him. I’m just trying to encourage labor.

He shook his head, said good luck, and went on his merry way.

The next day, while Rich was at work, my water broke. I called Ellen and she said, “I’m supposed to tell you to get to the hospital but if you’re not having contractions yet, try walking around. But if they don’t start within the hour, you need to come to the hospital.”

I called Rich. I walked and walked and walked some more. Nothing. Rich left work early. It would take him 45 minutes to get home and once he arrived, we headed ff to the hospital. Ellen met us there.

The baby preferred to stay put. I didn’t want to be induced so Rich and I walked the halls for over an hour. Finally, Ellen said she had to have me induced because my water had broken and there was a danger of infection.

This was an outcome we’d feared. We remembered our birthing instructor said the being induced caused immediate strong contractions with little breaks to rest. Most induced mothers needed to have epidurals. That was the last thing I wanted. Rich promised he’d coach me through it all and that he would talk me out of getting an epidural.

The instructor was right: the contractions hit hard and fast, lasting forever. One would stop and I didn’t have much time to breathe before another one hit. It was pretty intense. I was almost fully dilated and asking for an epidural. But Rich was an excellent coach. His face was close to mine, and he was helping me breathe through those painful contractions.

The obstetrician on call periodically checked in on us. There was another patient from the practice at the other end of the hall. The two of us were at about the same stage in labor. Sometimes I could hear the doctor racing up and down the hall to see which of us would deliver first. I heard him consulting with Ellen. He wanted to do a Caesarian.

“No, let’s give her a chance,” Ellen said. Thank God for her presence!

At last, it was time to begin pushing. The doctor was with the other mother, so it was just Ellen, Rich, and me.

And then, our baby was finally ready to be delivered. “It’s a boy!” Ellen exclaimed joyfully.

I was exhausted and thrilled. Rich proudly took our little boy in his arms and sat down with him while I finished delivering the placenta. Before our son was whisked away to the nursery, I had a chance to cuddle him myself.

I had no idea what time it was and learned it was almost 5 a.m., Mother’s Day morning. Later, I held our son again in my arms and felt blessed. He was the most special Mother’s Day gift.

He still is.

Once again, this is my pledge to write for at least a half hour every day:

I am participating in the American Cancer Society’s challenge to write for thirty minutes each day in May. I do a lot of writing and I can meet this challenge. I plan to make a blog entry each day with what I’ve written.

I wanted to participate in memory of loved ones who fought cancer bravely but succumbed:

My brother-in-law Jeff

My sister-in-law Ann

My dear friend Kay

My Uncle Bob

My Uncle John

I also wanted to help raise money to support research and a cure for those currently fighting this vicious disease.

My Facebook to the fundraiser is here.

Sunday, May 7, 2023

Day 7: Sunday Funday

I know about the horrible mass shooting in Texas…again. But today is not the day I want to write about it.

Today I’ve made this Sunday a Fun Day. I sat down and read the funnies, savoring each one. I practiced some Spanish. I signed up with Duolingo and, with their free program, have been learning the language. I began learning Spanish because I saw so many calls for Spanish-speaking tutors. I don’t know how fluent I can become but would like to be able to eventually fill in.

Yesterday was a Mother’s Day Celebration at mother-in-law Lucille’s development. She’d bought tickets for Ted and me as a gift for me. We were grateful because it wasn’t inexpensive for her. We picked her up and headed to the neighborhood center.

The event was well attended, and the buffet food was delicious. I wish I’d remembered to bring my program home with me because the musician was a talented and engaging saxophonist/flutist with everyone up and dancing, especially Lucille.

The musician, whose nickname was Yes Yes, noticed Lucille dancing her heart out. He took a break from playing to come off the stage and slowly danced with her. It was such a lovely, sweet dance that I thought I’d captured it with my phone’s video camera. For some reason, though, it didn’t record. Later, though, Lucille and Yes Yes danced together again briefly during a line dance, and I’m sharing it here.

Last night, a photographer was at the dinner. We were allowed as many shots as we liked, and they were free. These are pictures taken of Lucille, Ted, and me.

I am so inspired by my mother-in-law. She is 90 and not long ago, was hospitalized seriously ill with covid. After she recovered from that, she suffered a bout with an infected gall bladder. The infection had to be treated first and then removed. It left her in a weakened state, but she’s always had a strong will and lively spark within her.

I would like to get up and boogey like that if I get to 90.

I am not ready for the rocking chair. There is still much I can do and much I can learn. I want to keep that spark and determination going within me, and that is why I want to learn Spanish and even work on getting a BA in special education. Why not? I’m only 68!

Michele shared pictures her eldest, Brandon, took at the wedding last week. Brandon was the official photographer and we thought he might investigate pursuing it as a career. The pictures were gorgeous, and I wish I could share them all. I had some problems uploading the few that I’ve shared already. I created a Facebook album and I also have them all loaded into my Google Photos. Here are some of the photos Brandon took:

I have one more fun thing to do today on the computer. I want to make a photo album of my daughters’ new house. Heidi and Kristin bought a lovely house within a five-minute drive of our house. I am so thrilled to have them close by. All week, they’ve been working at the house to get it in order before they move in. Yesterday they told us they were done with most of the painting. Ted and I had had a very busy week, so we weren’t able to help as much as we wanted to but were able to show up to hang out for a little while each day they were there.

One fun fact I learned today: like me, Bruce Springsteen has his roots in Ireland. I have always loved the Boss and his music but had no idea that he was of Irish heritage until I read this article. Sláinte, Bruce!

As for the rest of Sunday, it’s so nice that Ted will be grilling hamburgers. After dinner, we can watch a movie and then cap it off with reading.

It’s been an amazingly restful Sunday.

I am participating in the American Cancer Society’s challenge to write for thirty minutes each day in May. I do a lot of writing and I can meet this challenge. What I plan to do is make a blog entry each day with what I’ve written.