A Cub Is Born
Sooo…what was I doing on this day nine years ago? Well, right now I would have been wrestling the Girl (Baby Girl, at the time) into her car seat for the trip to my gynecologist’s office for my weekly check-up. I was a week away from my due date but had been dilated to five cm. at my appointment the previous week so; I was hoping for a report of additional progress.
And, as hoped, there had been progress; I was dilated to a six and was instructed by my doctor to head to the hospital where my water would be broken in an effort to get things moving.
My friend, Jules, came to watch the Girl for us while Hugh, my mother and I made the three-block trip to the hospital.
I was admitted and shown to one of the newly remodeled birthing suites where I drooled with envy over the beautiful hardwood floors; floors that would not be quite so beautiful once I got finished with them.
Hugh called Emily, who promised to drop what she was doing to make the two and a half hour trip at which point I grabbed a nurse who was passing by and begged her make haste with the crochet hook; time was of the essence!
I wanted to get that ball rolling, if you get my drift.
My doctor arrived about an hour later, the crochet hook was duly inserted I felt a distinctive pop and….
I proceeded to drench the doctor, the bed, the assisting nurse, a wall seven feet away and, to my horror, the beautiful hardwood floors, in about two gallons of amniotic fluid. My doctor eyed me and deadpanned “Did I forget to mention that I already HAD a shower, today?” Completely horrifying.
Two or so hours later, after the bed had been changed, the floors mopped and the doctor dressed in dry scrubs; I shifted on the bed during a routing cervical check and another huge gush of water came bursting forth, soaking the bed, the doctor, the nurse and, of course, the hardwood floors. At the precise moment, that Emily walked in.
Cue the contractions. Considering the horrible epidural experience that I had with the Girl; I had chosen to forgo pain medication so, the contractions were, well, painful. But, ultimately productive and, in no time at all I was due for another cervical check, before which; my doctor inquired as to whether or not she should try to find a snorkel before “going in”.
Hugh swears, to this day, that I actually gave the thought some consideration. I don’t remember that, though because, in the next minute, she was “in” and she said something that made my heart stop.
I don’t know about you but, when a professional goes into a place that is supposed to be her area of expertise and says “what the?!...”, I tend to lose a little confidence in her skills. And, you know, panic.
In fact, if I recall correctly; I sat bolt upright and said something like “What the WHAT?!!! What?! What IS it?! Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”
Or, something like that.
“Whew! Nothing to worry about! It’s just a hand!”
Right. Because everyone knows that babies CRAWL out of the womb (and it’s a damn good thing that movie, The Ring, had not yet come out because that freaky kid creeping out of the TV would have been the FIRST thing to enter my mind, fucking Japanese film makers and their freaky long haired crawling kids) .
Anyyywaaay…nothing to worry about, la dee da, de, da.
And, of course, she was right, everything came out just fine (pardon the pun). The Man-Cub was born hand-first despite some righteously aggressive “intra-uterine manipulation” by the doctor- a procedure, I might add- that I had seen performed once before, by my brother-in-law.
Granted, that time it was done on a cow and, I do distinctly remember hoping that the doctor had paid close attention to her elbows when she scrubbed up, earlier.
And, good outcome. The Man-Cub was a dream come true. I had secretly hoped for a boy and I have thanked God everyday since that we got the boy that we did. He lights up my life on a daily basis and I am enjoying every moment of watching him grow up.
I just wish he wasn’t doing it quite so fast*.
Happy Birthday, Man-Cub!
*Seriously, where did my baby go? Where are the chubby cheeks , the screw-on hands and the rollly-polly thighs? He's like, all angles and long legs and shit. That just ain't right.