Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
Himself has a birthday
Thirty-seven years ago today my son, Ted, was born. He announced his birth quietly, mostly because I woke up in the middle of the night appalled that I had wet the bed. It took a few minutes to register that my water had broken. You’d think this would have been my first thought, but I reverted to the shame of childhood and assumed I’d consumed too much tea at the barbeque joint the night before.
Ted was born on a Thursday. I know this because on Wednesday nights we had choir rehearsal. We were about to recess for the summer but there was a grand church picnic planned and our contribution was to produce the Hallelujah Chorus on kazoos. So we put our dignity aside and practiced. After that we went to an all you can eat barbeque place and took advantage of the “all” part. I still think Ted was born a few days early because after I consumed a cow there was no more room at the inn for him. (On a related note, the day before my daughter was born I consumed a huge taco salad at Hacienda. I think there’s something to my theory.).
Anyway, I walked into St. Luke’s emergency room announcing that my water had broken but I had to get to work because I had left a significant amount of work undone on my desk top. They laughed at me and put me in a wheelchair and rode me up to the obstetrics unit. The nurse settled me on the OB bed as I thought about all the work that was waiting for me a few miles down the road.
My staff at work had had lots of fun during my pregnancy. There was a contest to name the baby. They took advantage of my last name, Mark, and came up with some doozies. Water Mark, Trade Mark, Hall Mark, and if it was twins, K Mark and Wal Mark. And so on. I loved working where people could have fun despite the seriousness of our jobs.
At any rate, there was not much progress going on contraction-wise. A Pitocin drip was in order apparently, and I had the lovely experience of dramatic contractions designed to move Ted along into the light. This went on all day. The only thing that gave me any relief was to blast Handel’s Messiah through the headphones on my Walkman. I just kept playing it over and over. I wish I could say that Ted was born during the Hallelujah Chorus. Instead he was born to all manner of people loudly telling me to push! Push! Push! Don’t Push! Push! By the way, in childbirth class I was told several times that getting to the push stage would feel good. Liars.
Birth is a heavenly experience once it’s all said and done. Here comes another soul to take his place in this life. He is a grown man now, and I am so proud of the person he has become. He’s kind, smart, and funny. He lives in Los Angeles, so I don’t see him very often. But when I do, it’s a mom’s dream come true
.Finally, I must report on his big sister’s reaction to seeing him for the first time. St. Luke’s had a little room where the baby was brought in for siblings to see. Jackie was three at the time. We got her a shirt that said “I’m the big sister” and ushered her into the room to see her new brother. She took one quick look at him then said, “Let’s go see the real babies”, presumably the ones on display in the nursery. She did warm up to him pretty soon, but her first impression was underwhelming.