Eleven, No Fourteen, Years Ago Today

This is a repost from November 4, 2006, from the Old Blog I Took Down…

Just about 11 years ago, my dad was recovering from a quadruple bypass.  He was doing well and had been sent home.  I know he was thrilled to be out of the hospital and in a familiar place with his friends around him.   A few weeks prior, he wrestled with the thought of calling to tell me about the surgery.  Because I was 8+ months pregnant, and having trouble with high blood pressure, he didn’t want me to worry.  I told him I loved him, and take care of himself, not worry about me.

Just about 11 years ago, because my BP was still high, and the baby was due, my doctors decided to go ahead and induce labor.  Let me tell you something, there is nothing blessed about having contractions every 2 minutes for 14 hours.  Seriously, that is a pain.  I was in so much pain and becoming exhausted, so we tried an epidural.  That was a huge step for me because I am seriously afraid of needles, but I needed it.  It DIDN’T WORK.  Neither did the second or third tries.

I had a friend tell me once that they weren’t going to bother with Lamaze classes, because she intended on having the epidural.  I kindly shook her and said, “Take the damn class.  If I didn’t know how to breathe through all that for 14 hours I would have croaked!”

At the end of all that, (I’ll leave out the, ahem, suction cup part), I ended up needing a C-Section.

“Joy…, will I be awake, or asleep?”
“We’d like to keep you awake.”
“Well, that is precious, so how will you do that?”
“We’ll give you another epidural.”
“Is it going to FUCKING WORK THIS TIME?  Because I’ll cry or something if I feel you cut me open.”
“No, we’ll make sure this one will work.”

So they curl me over my 9 month belly to do this shit AGAIN.  I am sobbing into the very large, soft, grandmotherly bosom of my nurse.  LOVED HER.  Get this – I am crying 1) because I don’t believe it will work this time, and 2) I was worried that someone needed to go feed my cats!    This beautiful Nurse, just patted me on the back and hugged me while they pierced me.  She calmed me like no mother could.

That one worked.  Big sigh of relief.

My husband called my father to tell him about his first grandchild.   He had just had dinner with a couple of friends and was resting in his living room.  My husband told him he had a healthy (and large) grandson.  My dad died a few hours later that night.

So, Daddy, we are having some birthday cake tonight.  I know you are around enjoying it with us.  Love ya.