Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
The greatest gift
It was late on a dark and stormy night as we drove through the rain to the hospital. Neither one of us knew what to expect, but we hoped we’d have a baby before the night was over. I was concentrating on the pain that was coming in regular waves, pain I was only slightly knowledgeable about. I had experienced cramps before but these episodes were like cramps on steroids. Little did I know that they would actually get worse.
We were timing the contractions as we had been advised to do. They were coming about every five minutes, which we understood as a sign to get to the hospital, up to the labor and delivery department. We were headed to St. Luke’s, where my OB doctor was on staff.
I had thought that the baby would be delivered somewhere around the 2d or 3d of October, around my mother’s birthday. There was sadness around this date because my mother had died earlier that year and had only had a chance to feel her first grandbaby move around. October 2 was her birthday, so I had asked the Universe to celebrate her birthday with another birth.
That, however, was not to be. The next two weeks, from October 2 to October 17, were a waiting game for a stubborn baby who was not ready for the grand reveal – a baby with a mind of its own. I swam every day, hoping to jostle baby into just the right position to be delivered. The October weather was perfect. Sunny days with a riot of color on the leaves, days warm enough to swim at Sugar Creek Swim Club’s outside Olympic size pool.
But this night was rainy and dark as we pulled into the expectant parents’ parking spot. We were hustled up to the Labor and Delivery floor, and then the real fun began. Contractions were coming quicker and much harder. I had declared my desire for a “natural” birth with no medications, something I soon came to regret. I was attached to monitors and to an IV. My husband stood watching all the preparations carefully. Not until the IV needle started sliding into my vein did I advise the staff that the father was about to pass out. Sure enough, they lowered him to the floor where he stayed until he could see straight again.
By now, each contraction was a minefield to cross. I heard a woman down the hall screaming and I felt sorry for her. I did not plan to be a screamer. However, I changed my mind when it was time to push. Now, we had been to the childbirth classes where they assured us that it felt good to be at the pushing stage. That was not my experience, so I began to assert – very loudly – that someone had lied. OK, I was screaming, “Somebody lied!!!!”. But you can’t scream and push at the same time. Then came that time when all I wanted to do was push – this is some of the hardest work in the world, but it is sure worth the effort.
Our baby girl, Jackie, was born around 7:15 AM. When she slipped out and we saw she was a girl, we had already decided to name her Jacqueline after my mother. So, Jackie made a grand entrance and life has never been the same since.
Jackie is 41 years old today, but the event of her birth is still as clear to me as if it happened yesterday. She is a grown woman now, with two boys of her own. I am so proud of the woman she has become – compassionate, funny, professional, creative, kind, and a great Mom. I had the privilege of being at the birth of my first grandchild, where we were all working together to take part in Cameron’s birth. As I held him later, I was overcome by an entirely different kind of love – the love of holding your child’s child. There’s nothing like it! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JACKIE!