Twenty Years Ago I became a mother.
It was a long day.
We got to the hospital at about 7 a.m. and our first son didn't show up until almost midnight.
Lots of transforming incidents during those hours:
* an enema witnessed by the brother-in-law who shouldn't have
* 1960's baby photos flung about by well-meaning grandmothers
* a gathering at the foot of my bed attended by 'everyone on the
floor who hasn't seen your bottom yet'
* drowning labor pains followed by blissful epidural numbness
* learning that operating rooms are very, very cold
* seeing my husband dressed in scrubs
- "Is it time for my epidural yet? Now? How about now?"
- "Is it supposed to hurt this bad?"
- "I think everyone in the maternity unit has seen my bottom!"
- "Let's not strap my arms down ..."
- "He's so beautiful!"
- "There are tears in my ears."
- "It's his birthday! Everybody bring presents!"
- "He looks just like his dad!"