The story begins on a blustery september day. I had awaken that morning not feeling quite right, 19 years old and my belly a full 10 months pregnant. My grandmother had called my mom and told her that playgirl,her poodle had fallen ill that morning. My mother raced to grandma and took both her and the poodle to the vet. Unfortunately the outcome was poor, Playgirl had an infection and they were to give her an antibiotic shot. They had a dog in another room that they were preparing to put down, it was a larger dog, and my grandmother was feeling sadness for that family. Playgirl got her shot and seemed almost immediately better, she slept peacefully on grandmas lap on the way home. My mother helped grandma out of the car and up to her apartment, trying not to wake playgirl. They set her down on the sofa and grandma went about her usual morning routine. My mom headed for our house just 1 mile away. Before she got into the door, I received a phone call from the vet. They had switched shots and playgirl was not sleeping. My mom came in the door and before I could tell her what had happened, grandma was on the phone telling mom there was something wrong with playgirl, I kept trying to tell my mom but she simply waved me off. When mom got off the phone I told her what had happened and she immediately went to fetch grandma and the deceased playgirl. They both came in the door and mom handed me the dog. “Go dig a proper grave for playgirl” mom ordered. oops, there is another cramp…must have eaten something bad yesterday. I had been cramping all day so with all the commotion I didn’t give it a second thought. I went out in the rain, protesting the entire time, and dug a hole to bury playgirl, it had to take me a good hour or more. I came back in and mom had me run an errand down the block. Someone was on Uncle Skip’ phone and she wanted me to go tell him what had happened. ( this is in 1980, at the beginning of the cell phone age, so no one had cell phones.) I trudged down the hill, only a few blocks, and told uncle skip. I spent a little more time that usual there, I had to sit down and breathe a bit… the cramps were really getting to me. What the heck had I eaten yesterday? I didn’t have to worry about being in labor, my doctor had just told me that it would be a few more weeks before I delivered. I went home, helped with dinner, laundry and vacuuming and then laid down on the sofa to watch Laverne and Shirley.
My dad was busy in our rec room refinishing a piece of furniture, so I kept being called in to assist him. The last time he called me in, as I got up, my water broke. Now, I didn’t think about it until later that night, I had been in labor approximately 18 hours already. I went into the kitchen where mom was baking cookies and told her my water broke, she yelled to dad whose response was…give me a bit, I’m almost done with this. This was at 8:30 in the evening. We got to the hospital and they informed me I was dilated to 8. It wouldn’t be long. All my family had come along with us and were already in the waiting room to cheer their sister on. I delivered Zach at 10:47 on September 23, 1980.
He was a beautiful baby boy, 7# 8oz. He was the sparkle in my dads eye, Dad called him Z guy. He resembled tweety bird a little, he had such big blue eyes. My first-born, we never forget our firsts in anything do we? Tomorrow my posts will chronicle the adventures of Z, which will keep you in stitches. I just thought this was a fun story with all the drama of the day. Nothing simple about me that’s for sure. do you have a fun story about one of your deliveries? post it, we would love to hear about it.