You Were Worth the Wait

Our baby was born on the Fourth of July in 1976, during the United States' Bi-Centennial, much to the thrill of us all and especially to that of her WWII generation grandparents. I remember my wonderful Dr. John Brennan who gave up his holiday for us (and others), coming and going to check on me and, ultimately, almost not making it in time for the delivery. 

He delivered a lot of babies in his 40 years to that date, but this one might have had a bit more at stake than he encountered every day. I was exposed to German measles during my first trimester of pregnancy. I discussed this with Dr. Brennan and I was surprised and delighted with his response. His mother had been exposed to German measles, he said, when she was pregnant with him.  

I knew he was partially hearing impaired, and so it wasn’t a total surprise when he explained he was “hard of hearing” in one ear, “and I think I turned out all right.”

I was comforted by his words and also laughed after he told me he already had guessed that our baby would weigh more than nine pounds. I don’t think he saw the humor in what he said. 

So, going back a couple of days, I called my husband at work and said that I had a leak in my “bag of waters” and I spoke with the nurse at Dr. Brennan’s office. Technically, this was thought to be an amniotic fluid leak, which could be a danger to both me and our baby, primarily because of infection. As a first time mom, and because of the German Measles issue, and the fact that I was approaching 41 weeks, Dr. Brennan wanted me to come to the hospital, she said.

Ultimately, someone came in and finally had to break the amniotic sac as labor ensued during the late afternoon of July 4th. I was disappointed that I would not have the gusher we had learned about in Lamaze class (this was the premier birth class(es) to attend at the time, along with the LaLeche League for breastfeeding mothers). I loved being pregnant.

So my poor husband got an earful from me when he just wanted to drive-thru at McDonald’s. He was hungry, but because the hospital was an hour away, in a moment of panic I yelled at him for even thinking of such a thing when the baby could be born any minute!

I was getting cranky, I recall, because I could not eat.

I will only add here for posterity that we did discuss how we hoped our baby was a girl, but that the main thing now was that the baby was healthy. German measles, amniotic fluid leak--yikes!

After getting checked in and as labor progressed over dozens of hours and then didn’t progress and progressed, and on and on, we waited along with my parents and the expectant aunt. I was induced and nothing happened until 14 hours later--except very hard labor. I remember Ed McMahon droning on incessantly on the TV about The Tall Ships on the Hudson River, and the soon to be grandmother, who was a kind person who loved everyone, telling us of her dislike for him. What?? 

These days, as we continually, finally, recognize what an integral part of nurses play as supporters, healers, and medical professionals in their own right. As far as my birth experience, I salute two of them in particular. One nurse, whose name I cannot for the life of me remember, was eight months pregnant and already a mom. She was with me in the delivery room and that was amazing. 

The other nurse was actually the wife of my co-worker. Fran rubbed my back during every shift which may or may not just have been part of her job, but after the induction, my back was killing me. 

I remember a bewildered husband who slept on the couch in the waiting room and rolled off onto the floor, waking up to a whole different group of guys who had no clue he had already been at the hospital for nearly two days. I remember the orange tree he brought me just because I wanted one.

I remember my friend Donna, who came into the labor room area long after I did and had her baby way ahead of me. My husband knew her husband and our labor rooms were across from each other. My husband wanted to grab something to eat with her husband but that didn't come to fruition as they were running to the delivery room.

Later, when I was wheeled into our previously determined shared room, she asked me what took me so long. Damned if I knew.

I also remember a stale ham sandwich, which was the only thing the nurses could find to feed me late at night on a holiday because I hadn't eaten in a couple of days. 

But most of all, I remember our baby, three weeks late, who came out with the cord around the neck yet pink as could be. With eyes wide open, our apparently perfect child looked at me and cooed. Born face-up, the baby had a birdseye view of what was going on during the moment of birth. I guess she wanted to see first hand her entry into the world--oh yes, she--after all that waiting, we had our daughter!

Just as her difficulty coming into joining us in this crazy world will always be a bit of a mystery, she was obviously a fighter before the world saw her for the first time. By the way, after that short-lived coo, she screamed, loudly. The only thing that cropped up following a shoulder broken during delivery, healthwise, was asthma beginning at the age of six months.

She has had to work hard and fight hard for a lot of reasons (as we all do), but she is smart, handy, has children of her own, and takes care of her own home. She is a psychologist and educator with her doctorate who cares deeply about her students. She has an incredible ability to discern right from wrong.  

As for me, I know I am not always the perfect mom in her beautiful hazel eyes, but she picked me and I am grateful for that. We have made it work. The world, in its way, agrees with us that you were worth the wait. You were exactly what the world needed and still are. You are hardly done yet!