A Birth Story: Welcoming Granddaughter

I had always prided myself on not having yelled at my husband during labor with my kids. Well, my unblemished record just got demolished. I yelled at him during the birth of our granddaughter. It wasn’t pretty. Bragging rights have been rescinded.

For the full story let’s go back to the beginning…

Our daughter was scheduled to be induced on the day before Valentine’s Day. Nine o’clock was her check in time at the hospital. Mike and I arrived before Monica and Kyle and had some breakfast at the hospital cafeteria.

Everything about me seemed speeded up; my heart rate, walking, talking, and eating.

We finished our breakfast and with coffee in hand headed to our daughter’s hospital room.

I thought baby girl would make her grand appearance in a few hours, but no…

One hour went by and then two, which turned to three and then four. By late afternoon with nothing happening, hopes of seeing baby that day waned. Contractions were few and far between even with the pills they gave her. Nothing. We waited. Hubby was having back issues and was in quite a bit of pain so we cut out and headed to the chiropractor after her nurse told us baby girl could stay put for up to three days.

Three days y’all! Three days. All the racing my body had been doing came to a halt.

As we pulled up to the doctor’s office Monica called us.

“My water broke.”

What?!

After Mike’s appointment we checked back in with Monica and still nothing was happening—even after her water broke. Psst.

Now we had a decision to make. Do we head back to the hospital and tough it out in a chair all night or go home and get some sleep? We opted for sleep but first stopped by a store to pick up snacks and essentials for the expectant parents.

With my cell next to my pillow, I tossed and texted with Monica until finally falling asleep.

Then, at 5:12 a.m. I received a text from Monica letting me know her contractions were two minutes apart.

I woke up my husband announcing, “It’s go time!”

Quick showers and we headed out.

A little side note here: Vital to the story, I was driving. Mike was approaching knee replacement surgery so it’s “less painful” for me to drive.

And here’s another added bummer to the story: It was raining—like crazy—and there was an accident on the freeway.

The traffic was nuts!

I was nuts!

And chanting, calm down, calm down, chill, it’s going to be okay, chill, you’re not going to miss this, while we forged the LA traffic. I asked Mike to read the Bible as we drove. Then he prayed for both of us, or all of us rather.

As we approached the hospital  I was driving as fast as I could. Mike started barking at me a bit due to my erratic driving.

“I want to get there alive,” he shrieked.

And I yelled, “Get off my case!” or “Back off!” or something like that, I truthfully can’t remember. I was shouting…who can remember what they yelled while they are flustered and shouting? I was not about to miss the birth of my granddaughter and if hollering at my husband was going to get me there quicker, then it seemed reasonable. At least at the time.

“Why were you yelling at me? This is supposed to be a happy time,” Mike said as I parked the car. “And it’s Valentine’s Day and you’re yelling at me.”

Yeah, it was Valentine’s Day and I was a most unagreeable Valentine. I apologized. I was slightly crazed. But as far as my driving I felt I had total control.

“Your driving scared me,” he said.

Which frankly caused a chuckle to rise within, usually I’m one of those too slow drivers people honk at. I admit it, I get honked at sometimes rarely too often.

We hugged and kissed and headed to our daughter’s room.

Quickly.

As quickly as possible with a limping husband. Not his emotions mind you, an actual limp – bad  knee, remember?

Rushing in Monica said, “They slowed down.” We raced there weathering the rain storm, traffic, and erratic driving only to hear that a longer wait was in order.

All good, I was there and I had made coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Peace flooded through my previously crazed veins.

Mike had adamantly said he would be in the waiting room even though Monica said both of us could stay in her room. I for sure wasn’t leaving. Mike on the other hand said, “That’s my little girl, I’m not going to watch her in pain.” I assured Mike that Monica was a real trooper and handled childbirth really well. (I was there for the birth of our grandson.)

He insisted he would be leaving.

Then, Kyle suddenly had a bit of an allergy attack and needed to head down to the pharmacy on the first floor to get something to stop his runny nose. A new daddy and a runny nose are not a good combo. Mike accompanied Kyle to the pharmacy. Along the way they noticed a large family waiting in the waiting room. Spread out all over.

After Mike explained the crowded room I had to see for myself and darted out to have a look.

Not only was the room full of excited chatter and energy, there was a rather large person lying on the floor—literally lying on the floor—face down. And there were multiple family members who had set up camp—completely overtaking the room.

I thought they were all quite cute and it blessed my soul to see such an outpouring of support. Not to mention, they were my angels because Mike decided to stay in the birthing room after seeing the waiting room takeover.

Hip hip hooray. But I acted like it was no big deal.

Hours passed and finally it was time to push.

Mike settled in with his laptop and headphones in the corner of the room. He had no view of the “goings on,” while I had a view of the “action.”

With each ten-count-push I held my breath and tightened my stomach. I couldn’t help it, I was all in even holding my breath to the point I fell over once. The nurse and Monica and Kyle laughed at me. Happy to amuse you. I’ll be here all night.

After 12 rounds of pushing I stopped counting.

As the pushing neared the end, the midwife and baby nurses entered the room.

Can I stop here for a moment to say…

It’s amazing what a woman’s body does during childbirth. What happens during childbirth is truly hard to take in. The “action” resembled the big plant in the Little Shop of Horrors movie named Audrey 2, “Feed me Seymore! Feed me!”

In between pushes I’d look over at Mike who was laser focused on his laptop. He was determined to avoid watching his little girl in any distress.

Our eyes would connect and he’d wink.

I recall looking over at the baby nurses and they were softly talking while they waited over the baby warmer thing, conversing about clipping flowers. To them it was “just another day at the office.”

But for us a miracle and a blessing of magnitude importance was taking place.

After what seemed like forever, her little baby head poked its way out. I’m talking halfway out.

I thought to myself, “How can she breathe? Is little baby girl suffocating?”

Time stopped as we all waited for the next contraction. The clock ticked.

On the next push baby girl was out. With tears rolling down my cheeks, the hand of God touched her, and she was breathing.

How can one not marvel at the miracle of life?

She was here, our first granddaughter pirouetted into our lives via Audrey 2.

Baby girl was immediately placed on Mommy’s chest. I did what any reputable grandma does and began taking pictures to capture Mommy and Daddy’s first meeting with baby.

I was an invisible agent.

Then I sent out the pictures to our family group text conversation (which consisted of Monica, Kyle, Monica’s two brothers, and Mike.

After overlooking the pictures I gasped and began laughing. Monica said, “Mom, why are you laughing?” So much for being invisible.

I had snapped a picture and sent it to her brothers and father with half of her chest saying a big Hello!  

Showing her the picture, “Umm, you just flashed your brothers.”

And her dad too, who had avoided seeing anything for the entire time until the picture popped up on his phone. He looked at me with a “how could you?!” look.

Monica said, “Mom, you mean you flashed my brothers!” laughing she said, “It’s okay, no biggie.” She understood it’s hard to see with waterfalls flowing from your eyes.

Which was way better than her brother’s response, answering my phone I heard, “Mom, holy crap!”

Once I got to hold baby girl I was instantly transported back 31 years earlier when I held my daughter for the first time. Feeling in a time warp it seemed like the same baby—little princess was the spitting image of her mommy.

After the nurses left the room and things settled, Mike and I were off to get big brother and keep him for the night, oh the joys of being a grandparent. But not before Kyle gave me a big hug and said, “Thank you for being such a great grandma.”

Let’s pause…

Allow me to tell you, the “flash picture” was minor to some of my other infractions over the years since he’s become our son-in-law, so this gesture of love meant a tremendous amount.

Family loves and accepts each other for who they are, not who you want them to be.

And that’s the kind of love and nurturing this little baby girl will get.

“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.”

-Proverbs 17:6

If children are a blessing of the Lord, grandchildren are a mega-blessing of the Lord.

And if you’re wondering I deleted the incriminating picture, wouldn’t want to accidentally post it on social media.

Fondly,

Lu

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