My mom’s story of the day I was born:

The night before you were born, we went out dancing with the Bruce’s.  I was really ready to have you and hoped to jog you out a bit.  I was in great shape and remember wearing one of those 70s dresses with a high waist and white leather go-go boots.  It was a fun evening dancing to the Beatles.

When we got home, I did one of those nesting things that women do before they have a baby, and cleaned the chandeliers (I assume she means this metaphorically), you know just cleaned the whole house. 

The next morning was a nice July day and sun was shining.  I started to go into labor, but put off going to the hospital.  I don’t remember the day that well.  When you’re having a baby you tend to focus inward.  It drove your dad crazy because I didn’t want to go to the hospital until right at the last.  He wanted to go right away, but after your brother’s birth taking such a long time…  Plus, I didn’t want to do all the procedures you have to go through before giving birth, like evacuating your bowels and such.  So I put it off.

I was really in great shape.  I was thin and had been exercising and doing Lamaze classes. At that time I was eating mostly vegetarian, didn’t smoke at all, and couldn’t tolerate liquor because it made me ill.  I weighed only 149 lbs and I guess I didn’t really look pregnant because the security guard ask, “What are you here for, mam?” and I said, “I’m going to have a baby in about 5 minutes.”  He looked pale and then ran off to get a wheel chair.

I was really excited to have you.  I was looking forward to it.  But then the anesthetist wanted to give me a spinal, and I had planned to have you naturally.  But they wanted to give me a spinal because I guess the doctor planned to finish another round of golf, expecting your birth to take as long as brother’s had I suppose.  I asked the anesthetist, “Aren’t you a doctor?”  But they said, “Yes, but I don’t do the rest of that.”  So they gave me a spinal.  When the doctor showed up in golf clothes, I was pretty pissed.  He was a Pakistani man, but I don’t remember his name.

I remember thinking how excited I was during your birth.  I had only three contractions and you were out.  I about giggled because your brother’s birth had been so difficult.  I felt like I could have had you in a field, then gone and hoed the next row of corn with you on my back.

They put you on my belly which they didn’t do with your brother.  You looked at me and cried, but in a nice way, not vociferously and I cried.

I was sad about moving to Allwater so quickly because I didn’t get to nurse you as long as I did with your brother.  I only nursed you for 3 weeks and I nursed him for 5 months.  But I had to pack up and go.  I felt so sad, because there’s nothing nicer than that experience.  We used to sit in that great big rocker that your brother has now and I would nurse you and sing to both of you with your brother sitting next to me. 

However, that tactile defensiveness was with you when you were born.  It wasn’t because I didn’t nurse you enough.  Your brother was a cuddlebug and you weren’t. 

I just loved being a mom, it was so… I don’t know.  It’s hard to express.  There was something just thrilling about the way children open up and absorb things and you just try to not put impediments in their way.

Hey, this is fun.  It’s bringing up so many memories.  Thanks.