Sunday, January 4, 2009

Who's Idea Was This?

Seventeen years ago today, I became a mom. Weird, right? I hardly look a day over 20 and yet here I am with a 17 year old boy! But seriously, it was an amazing time in my life that I remember with such clarity - trying to wake Frank up and convince him that I was TRULY in labor this time (there were 3 other false alarms), getting to the hospital and finding out that I was going to have to have a C-section - FAST. The fact that my husband would NOT get off the phone and help me with anything. Ah, good times.

Here's the condensed version of January 4, 1992:
I woke up around 8 am with bad back pains and knew it was labor. I was two weeks over-due. I finally convinced Frank that it was real this time (plus, being two weeks over-due, SOMEONE was delivering this baby today!) and we left for the hospital. Now, my sister was my back-up coach and her only instructions to me the day before was "Don't have this baby on Saturday because I have catering." You know I how I hate being told what to do... We called our landlords (we rented an apartment in their home and they were expecting a baby too) and told them what was going on, and they wished us well. Once at the hospital, Frank went in to phone calling mode while I was quickly being prepped for a C-section - the boy was leaving my body THAT DAY or else! Now, while I am in full blown hard back labor, Frank is lounging in the corner of the room asking stupid questions like "Hey, do you think your sister should stop cooking and come down?" My only thought at that point was that I need to hurt him. I don't even remember my answer. Then he called our landlords to give them an update and was sitting having a casual conversation with Bruce! I'm like "HEY! Do you think you can get your ass off the phone and give me a hand here?" His response? (Brace yourselves, ladies) "Do you have to be such a snotty bitch?" Oh, I so wish I was kidding. But I'm not. Sigh. He did get off the phone and informed me that Bruce was on his way. Oh, joy. Like I cared at that moment. The anesthesiologist came in to give me my options and I grabbed him by the lab coat and said "SLEEP! I want to be put to sleep!" Now Frank decided to get involved and was like "Really?" I'm sorry, but I don't care how 'numb' they claim to make you, if I hear someone say "scalpel" I'm going to know that they are cutting me open and freak the hell out. I was whisked away and they did not allow Frank to come with me - or maybe he chickened out - to this day I don't know. As soon as Nick was out, they cleaned him up and took him out to Frank. They had just placed the baby in his arms when my sister swooped in, grabbed Nick and said "Take my picture!" So the very first picture we have of Nick, is my sister holding him. She even had on a hospital gown and looked frazzled so anyone looking at that shot would swear that she was there the whole time doing all the work! When I got wheeled down to recovery, a nurse stopped me to tell me that our landlords were on the way to the hospital (not the one I was at but another one) because THEY were having their baby! How weird was that? So Nick was born around 11:30 that morning and their daughter was born around 4:30 that afternoon! Two families, one house, two babies in one day!

The hospital stay was really uneventful except for the fact that the boy was so alert and trying to speak (a phenomenon, the nurses say). What I remember most is bringing him home from the hospital - Frank worked a 3-11pm shift and after he left for work that first night and everyone had gone home I remember looking at Nick sleeping in his cradle and thinking "OH MY GOD!! Who's idea was this? I am not going to be alone again for the next 18 years!"

I guess it wasn't such a bad idea. I'm glad he's here and I'm glad to be his mom (most of the time). Happy Birthday, baby! I love you!

1 comment:

Nani said...

At least once a week, I say to myself..."what was I thinking - that I could be a mom and not just for one, but for two!!" It usually comes on those days when they wont stop fussing or whining or ask a million times, "why do I have to?"

Thank goodness for bedtime, pray and a husband who loves to take them to the park.