Final Intro: The Big Day

As I approached the end of my eighth month, it was time to start Lamaze classes at our local hospital. I had gone to school there, being a registered nurse, and I felt comfortable there and was looking forward to classes. Looking back, I think it was my nurse’s training that made me a tad over-confident in the process. Mike and I made these beautiful plans. They were so detailed, they would have made it into “Auditor's Digest” without a problem. We had two suitcases. One was for my clothes, necessities, and the baby’s outfit. The other was for lotion, music, tennis balls, back rubbing items, the “birth plan”, focal point, stopwatch, …and the kitchen sink.
By the time my due date was close, I felt like someone had tied sandbags around my legs, waist, arms, and chin......I mean, chins. I was awkward and clumsy and so ready to deliver that any thoughts of pain paled in comparison to waiting for that day to come. Every week I went to the doctor, not only did I pack on five more pounds, but I felt as if there was no way that I could make it through another week and return for another visit. I was in full walrus mode. Even the extra-huge comfy shorts were mocking me.
It’s so funny how you wait so long for something. Then, when it finally comes, you want to say, “What? Are you serious? It’s really time?” I laugh when I think of that doctor’s face that night at the hospital when we asked if he was sure. He must have thought we were crazy.
I went from excited to throwing my hair clip across the room during a contraction. Any ideas that this would not be as bad as I thought went down the drain about then. The birth bag full of fun was opened quickly and one by one the “trinkets” were tossed aside. Well, by this time, I and everyone else in hearing distance, knew that I was no saint.
In the end, the entire bag of birthing tools was ditched. The birthing plan was ripped up…by me.
My nurse decided to go on break, and after a while another nurse popped her head in.
“Everything okay?”
The look on Mike face and a woman prying the wood off a table must have clued her in. After the nurse checked me, a flurry of activity like I’d never seen before began to unfold around me. Four nurses appeared from out of nowhere. Stirrups were flying in the air, baby monitors being turned on, bed altering, pans, gowns. It was unbelievable chaos.
Soon after, we had a boy. Then, fourteen months later...a girl. Then, two years later...another girl. Two more years...a boy. Another two...a boy.
Do you see a pattern here?
Then three years later...ha, gotcha...our sixth, a girl, now 10 weeks old.
And it has been quite an adventurous and exciting time since that day almost 11 years ago.