It’s fast approaching.
Ok…it’s not so fast. It’s slowly creeping up on me.
Crawling…hour by hour….
minute by minute….
false contraction by false contraction.
My son will be here in less than 24 hours.
He’ll be born in the same hospital, and by the same doctor, as both of his sisters. In a small neighborhood hospital that has two birthing rooms. What happens when a third woman shows up in labor? I have no clue. Luckily, I haven’t had to find out, and hopefully I won’t tomorrow.
I described the magic of Savannah’s birth last week. Tonight I’m thinking about Sarah’s. She was scheduled to be induced the fourth day after her due date. In the wee hours of the morning on the third day, though, my water broke. Three hours later we were at the hospital in the birthing room all the laboring mothers want. It’s a room that feels more homey than sterile. The bed is hidden from view and a curtain stays up at all times so you feel as if you are completely away from everyone and everything. The windows look out to the trees that surround the lake.
If another lady is there at the same time as me tomorrow morning, I’ll throw my billfold at Pat and say, “Here, Honey. Take care of the insurance and paperwork. That room is mine!” I'll room up the stairs to the fifth floor if I have to.
Unlike labor with Savannah, this time it was just the two of us. No family or friends were there. They were all driving into town, working, or caring for our oldest. Pat and I were alone and it was one of the most beautiful, intimate moments of my life.
Sarah was born 8 hours after my water broke in true Drama Queen style. The doctor showed her to us and that bottom lipped slowly formed a pout and out came a wail. I had never seen a newborn pout. Don’t they typically throw their mouths open and cry? Sarah pouted…for hours. Even then she wanted to be sure she got all the Awwww’s she could. And believe me, she did.
How could you not oooo and aaaah over this face?