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#2 is 9 today! I can't believe it. Nine years ago that I went in to be induced at 4:45 a.m. It was pitch black outside, my fave/not! and all the nurses told me I would be first in--first out. It'd be over by lunch and I'd be eating and hanging out with my baby. Never, ever gamble with a labor/delivery nurse. #1 had almost delivered herself. I have the nurses on video saying "Your baby is delivering herself..." #2 had alternate plans. Her GPS had been recalled apparently. I've blocked a lot of it out, all I know is that no matter what I did to progress, there was no success in my progress. My doctor's office was across the parking lot from the hospital and they had called her over at least twice, maybe three times because they thought I was close, but no dice. The side thing must have worked because at some point, or the kid's GPS rebooted, because the nurse left AGAIN to go call my doctor over. It was just Handyman and me in the room. I had never felt the primal urge that everyone talks about, to push. Not with #1 and not now, no how. All of the sudden I felt fullness where there had been nothing. I said to him to go get someone and he just looked at me and I repeated it pretty emphatically and I reached down, because I remembered reading that you should keep a little pressure on the head, not letting it just pop out quickly and I figured I was going to be the one doing that! Just then my doctor rushed through the door wearing her leather bomber jacket over scrubs. I don't remember if she looked at my face, because she was seeing someone else's below. As she crossed the room dropping her coat, she said, "Could someone get me some gloves...nevermind!" She caught #2 barehanded! She said it had been a long-time since she had caught one barehanded. We were all kind of shocked and #2 was a lovely shade of navy blue, like I have never seen. None of the professionals really said anything about it and my doctor sat down on her little rolling stool to start the repair work. I saw they had #2 on her belly on the warming table, with her legs pulled up under her and I heard one of the nurses working on her say, "C'mon sweetie, you're scaring me." Now, when you decide to become a labor/delivery nurse, I think this is a statement that should be eliminated from your professional vocabulary, don't you? I realize that she was not necessarily saying that for public consumption, but she wasn't more than 6' from my bed. Me, with the hormones gushing out of several openings in my body. At the same time, my doctor kept leaning back from her jobsite to look over at the nurses, in a concerned sort of way. I remember thinking to myself, "If she gets up off that stool and heads that way, I am coming off this bed to get to my child." She was a darling baby, always smiling. I remember Handyman telling me that I carried her around entirely too much. I gave him the oh-yeahs, saying she might be my last baby and I was going to carry her as long as I wanted, that the amount of time she was carried compared to the course of her life would be the blink of an eye and he could kiss my library card! Well, she wasn't my last one, but she's still a smiley, little, happy-go-lucky sweetie. She doesn't look a thing like me. If I ever have to prove we're related, it'll be tough. She has her dad's hair, his eyes and his flat feet. Happy B'day #2. You look great in navy! ;)
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