Big Plans    

 My pregnant belly and I were parked in front of the air conditioner for a much-needed nap in early September.   My four children were noisily swarming around me when

I heard the front door creak open and shut firmly. Hallelujah!! My husband’s home!! I rolled off the couch with a thud and struggled to my feet to greet the man in the Army

boots and hand off the baton.  He had something to say.

“Hey Sweetie! It turns out that I’m being sent TDY (temporary duty) to Washington D.C. for a while but I’m really going to try to make it back for the birth.”

WHAT??!? TRY to make it to the birth?  My heart sank as thoughts of going it alone were spinning out of control; I made a mental leap to my happy place. 

I called Mom. She would come, she said.

The next day, I talked to my midwife, Robin, who was used to scheduling inductions around deployments and other inconveniences. We would do it on the 15th, just to

be safe. I was pleased with myself for having the idea and simplifying everyone’s life. Thrilled, I eagerly planned with my mom and husband. He would drive the 8 hours

back home on the 14th and pick up my mom at the airport on the way. The next morning, my mom would stay with the other kids, and my sweetheart and I would skip off

to the hospital to complete our perfectly planned birth. 

On the 13th, I was feeling great and looking forward to the weekend.   The kids went about their usual Thursday routine of gymnastics and tae kwon do while I pigged

out on French fries and chocolate and cheered from the sidelines. I wonder if this is a boy or a girl. We have two of each, guess it doesn’t matter… Geez, I haven’t had a

contraction all day.   After tucking the children into bed, I decided to turn in at 9.   I tossed and turned, annoyed and muttering until 11.   Finally, I had a contraction. And

another. And another. I timed them for about 15 minutes before deciding to call my midwife. 

“Lie down for about 30 minutes and see if they stop. If not, call me back.”

I called my neighbor, Ruthie, just in case. “Hi! I know it’s late, but I am having pretty hard contractions. I don’t know what to do!”

I am suddenly awash in helplessness, like I’m doing this for the first time. In my fog, I hear her tell me she’s coming over.  I call the midwife again to say the

contractions have gotten worse.  She wants to check me; meet her at the hospital.   Ok.   I am shaking and trying to focus on the last minute things to throw in my half-

packed bag.   Midnight is glowing red on my clock and I hear Ruthie call my name up the stairs.  I come down with my bag.  The kids! Oh nuts! 

“Ruthie, we have to take the kids, no one is here!”

We wake them up and throw them into their coats and shoes and carry them to the van. I am calm as another contraction subsides, so I call my husband who will begin

driving in 3 hours.   Going to get checked out I say.   He is sleepy, wants me to call him back after I see the midwife.

The hospital is 15 minutes away this time of night, and the contractions are becoming extremely painful. 

Suddenly, “BLAAAAH!” George throws up in the backseat all over Sean.

Sean starts crying.   George starts crying.   Sean shakes the vomit off him and onto Carolyn.   Carolyn starts crying.   Sophie is spacing out with her blanket, a safe

distance from the volatile circus in the third row.   I'm in the front cursing freely and trying to breathe.   Ruthie is driving around 80 mph. through town and saying, "Oh my

LORD!!" and “LOOOORD have mercy!!” Somewhere in the chaos, I become aware that the baby will indeed arrive today.

I hear someone laughing. It’s God. Huge, belly-laughs. So much for all my planning. 

We get to the hospital where Ruthie helps me into a wheelchair with a kiss on my head. “Good luck!”   Hollering and whining, I am wheeled to maternity at 12:30 where I

collar Robin and demand “some F@*&ing drugs!!” She humors me by calling the anesthesiologist, but we both know there's no time. By now I am in wish-you-were-

dead pain and have managed to work myself up into a hyperventilating mess. She tells me to go ahead and push and I am relieved to do something. I am screaming

this baby out as nurses are asking me a million questions. No, I don’t want to open my eyes! No, I don’t want to catch the baby! “I WAAANT IT OOOOUT!” And with one

last push, the tiny creature was out! I am surprised to see several people in the room trying to get a look.

“It's a girl!!” Time stops at 12:57.

I am relieved and stunned.  Did this just happen?   All 8 lbs, 10 oz. of baby Margaret are placed on my belly.   As I nuzzle her creamy, soft face, I am a new mother all over

again, completely awestruck. I feel my capacity for love multiplying as life and motherhood begin anew. At 3 in the morning, I am in my room and finally call my husband.

"Hey! Where are you in your drive?” I ask.

"Oh, I'm just getting ready to leave. How are you? Are you still having contractions?"

"Nope. Not anymore."

"Oh well, it was probably false labor..."

 "Actually”, I said, “it was a girl!"