I Turned Around
As of today, I have a child who's a senior in high school.
Max just finished his finals. It was on the heels of another big event, my oldest nephew graduating from college.
Who coined the phrase, "Warp speed?"
Those are big turning points for my nephew Ike, (really Isaac) and Max. They grew up right under my nose. Ike as close as 7 or 8 blocks away.
I turned around . It was years, and years, later.
I remember the day Ike was born. I was charged with keeping my wonderful parents occupied. I got a sitter. Barry and I went to a restaurant with the two of them, known for terribly slow service, on purpose. My sister's labor went on and on. My folks walked the Central West End with us. We sat in the lobby of Barnes-Jewish. It was way before cell phones were in use. We were at my brother-in-law's mercy for updates.
I took my first look at that adorable little bundle.
I turned around. He's in the procession at Indiana University smiling, happy, successful. Where did it go?
How the heck did this happen? My sister just had him. I promise you.
And Max. I just walked him to the first day of school. We had the tradition. The kids posed on the front steps for pictures before they walked to Meramec Elementary from our house across the street on the first day of school. Hand in hand I marched Max across the street to kindergarten in Ms. Dillon's class. I put him in his seat. I made sure the pencils and kleenex were all in order at his desk.
I turned around.
Prestige Photo wants us to schedule his senior picture session in June. We have to go to Grinnell College to talk to the baseball coach. Max needs to take the ACT's just once more, for maybe, that final crucial point. How did this happen? Where did it go?
Stacks of papers on my desk. To do lists a mile long. It's not just me, it's everyone. Too much to do, not enough time. Can I make myself promise to savor every day of his senior year? Can I make it a point to pin him down so we can actually have a conversation every day? Can I try to get to almost all the home baseball games? Can I volunteer at Homecoming so I can just catch a glimpse? (That one, maybe not).
I hope so. Not that I don't love what I do, because I am thrilled with my work life. Not that any working mom out there doesn't feel good about contributing to a greater purpose. But I look back at Ike's graduation. It flew by. I can picture Max walking into Meramec Elementary as clear as day. I just don't want to be at this desk a year from now, on his graduation day, reflecting on his senior year, without some mental snapshots. Then it's okay if it went fast. Then it's alright if I'm sitting at the Clayton graduation saying,
I turned around, and it was over.
Hold the Epidural
This is a story about drugs, or rather the lack of them.
I know exactly what I was doing 24 years ago today. It could have required drugs, but it didn't.
I was pregnant with our first child. Barry had a job in Boston and we were commuting.
Imagine that, a commuter pregnancy, way before it was fashionable.
I had just moved to Boston, taking maternity leave from WXYZ-TV in Detroit.
I had only met our ob-gyn once. Barry had dutifully interviewed dozens of doctors in my absence. Our appointment was to be the first in our weekly series. Barry and I had taken the subway, the "T," from our apartment on Beacon Hill. Even though I was new to this pregnancy thing, I was fairly confident, as I sat in the waiting room of my new doctor's office, that my water had broken.
It's a very interesting way to meet your doctor, the one who was going to deliver your first child.
In retrospect, Alex's unceremonious arrival was more excitement than a doctor's office usually has. It certainly was more fun. The doctor came rushing in with an expression like, "I know I recognize you but I'm really not sure how."
The baby was going to be three weeks early. We hadn't shopped for furniture and hadn't taken any Lamaze classes. We dispatched a single friend for furniture, who really had no more idea than we did. We told the natural childbirth coach we had hired to get us up to speed, she may as well forget it. By the time I got to Brigham and Womens Hospital, I was sure I could do this without drugs.
I might have been sure, but the nurses were
amazed. This is a big maternity hospital in Boston. They've seen everything.
Several nurses came to meet me.
"Hey, there's a woman in 308 who doesn't want drugs!"
I'm sorry I don't remember my nurse's name. She was caring, sensitive and extremely knowledgeable about the psychology of pain. She told me learning natural childbirth was easy. I believed her.
I remember about four things really well from that day, May 12. My doctor breezed in from the golf course, white pants and all, looking absolutely uncreased. Just like in the movies, he was extremely handsome.
I remember how great the nurse was. And I do I remember the pain. It was something. It IS like pulling your lip over your head and keeping it there, or those other metaphors about childbirth. It was something. Any expectant mom out there who is thinking about it, think again. It REALLY hurt. REALLY. But it's not what I remember most.
What I remember as if it were yesterday was Barry tearing up when our healthy boy finally arrived. (He's the one who was crying, yet I'm the one with all that pain.) It really hurt, did I mention that? But I really knew I could do it. I just knew.
Some 24 years later, Alex is still very much worth all that pain. He's in California, living his adventure, having a great time at his job. I talked to him today and reminded him about all I remembered from that hot spring day in Boston and how I didn't take any drugs.
"I think I've heard that before," he said, kind of eager to get off the phone. It's okay. Only one of us really needed to go down memory lane this morning.
But in the spirit of full disclosure, I wasn't even through the doors of the hospital in 1990, when his little brother was about to be born, when I told the nurses I needed an epidural. Now.
