A Tall Tale

Tonight I went to a writing workshop put on by the fourth grade teachers at Kadie's school. The teachers presented the 6 traits that they grade for in the forthcoming state and national tests. About half of the parents took notes...I wasn't in that half. What are they going to do with the notes anyway? I was loathe to have another item peeking out at me from the mound in my "put everything in here that you don't know what else to do with" basket. So I suppressed all note-taking urges and just listened.

Then the parents got to try their hand and scoring student selections with the provided rubric.

Contain your excitement, I haven't even gotten to the good part yet.

After grading anonymous student selections we were given a prompt and the chance to write our own masterpiece. The subject: bringing your child home from the hospital (newborn child, not one who had fallen and smacked their little head/arm/eyeball.) Kadie gets to read and dissect my offering tomorrow in school. I can't wait for the verdict, especially since I only had like five minutes.

To do the story more justice, I am including the full version here.

Scene 1:
3:00 a.m. on 3/19

I awake to strong contractions. After suffering through a few, I decide to get up and take a shower in the hopes that this is not a false labor. Boy it would be nice to no longer be pregnant. Unfortunately, the contractions stop during said shower. NUTS! I spend the next 3 hours in misery, imagining myself pregnant for the rest of my life. My tears don't even wake my snoring husband. (He does snore pretty loudly.)

Husband wakes at 6:00 a.m. and I inform him of my body's un-cooperativeness. He says he'll call into work, but I tell him he should go...I'm obviously never having this baby.

Husband goes to work, but is back within 2 hours, "just in case." He is really starting to make me mad.

Brother-in-law and niece and nephew stop by for lunch. I start having contractions again, good ones, but I am reluctant to think much of them. They get really intense, I keep having to pause in between toasting fish sticks and cutting fruit. (Of course hubby and brother-in-law are visiting while the 9-month pregnant, false-laboring woman makes the lunch. They don't even comment about the fact that I am doubled over and breathing in my focus on relaxing instead of on the searing pain rhythm.) The contractions stop...again. NUTS! and NUTS!

Ken and I go for a long walk. Nothing. I am really getting depressed.

Late after noon I get some more contractions. My Mom asks me if she should take Reilly to the DMV with her while Morgan and Joe try to get their drivers licences before they die of old age. I tell her it's probably not necessary, I'm never really going to have the baby, but she takes Reilly with her anyway. (At least someone is optimistic.)

Chelsi needs a ride to the library. Ken and I aren't really doing anything, so we take her. Only as I'm checking out the new arrivals shelve I suddenly realize I'm not feeling so well. I tell Ken I really need to go home. I tell Chelsi we'll come back to get her when I'm feeling better. By the time I get home, I can tell that the baby is definitely coming. OUCH!

Scene 2: The hospital

We delivered Reilly in Utah and were a little lost as to protocol in Nevada. We found what must be labor and delivery and stepped up to the window.

Nurse: Can I help you?
Me: Yes, I'm here to have a baby.
Nurse: So you think you're in labor?
Me: I AM in labor.
Nurse: Well, you can come back and we'll check you.

After struggling out of my clothing and into a breezy hospital gown amid debilitating pain, the nurse returned to "check" me.

Nurse: Oh my gosh! We need to get you to a delivery room!

Me in my head: These nurses are really dimwitted. I TOLD her I was in labor. I waited until I was sure.

For some reason while they were hunting down the nearest doctor and prepping me and him they thought I should sign a bunch of forms stating what personal effects I had brought with me, etc. I wanted to smack all of them...Especially the doctor who kept saying, "Don't push yet!"

The gloved doctor was eventually ready for me to push and she was born...3 pushes later.

Call to Grandma and Grandpa to spread the good news:
Ken: She was born at 3:18 p.m.
Grandma: If Sarah could have waited another minute she would have been born at 3:19 on 03/19.

What was I thinking?!

Scene 3: Another room, same hospital
Nurse hands me a sheet and tells me to tally baby bowl movements and wet diapers. I wait until she leaves the room and make random marks for what I think a healthy baby might produce in one evening. I also do not wake baby up to eat. Second time around Mommy thinks if she is hungry enough she'll wake up and let me know. (She survived, so I guess I was right.)

Reilly made me sleep deprived for 9 months straight. Kadie slept through the night every night from the first. Reilly looked tiny and underfed, even though I fed her every hour-and-a half. Kadie looked fat and happy because I fed her every hour-and-a-half.

Now they are 11 and 9. Kadie still sleeps through the night and Reilly doesn't. And they can feed themselves...

Oh, and we totally left Chelsi stranded at the library...oops! But she survived too.