A labour of love.

I tossed restlessly through each pain still in denial of what was becoming much too obvious. By 4AM I'd had enough and done what any person does at that hour; I began washing, drying and ironing laundry. The slight flaw in my productivity plan was that the washer/dryer are in our basement, a monstrous 12 steps down and back up. I made it work or at least as best a bull in a china shop might. Gravity does funny things to people.

By 7AM the denial had worn off and I was prepared to admit that I was, in fact, in labour. I called my friend who had just gotten to work. She took over from the moon and talked me through contractions all the while timing and gauging the severity. By 8, I was waking Hubby.

He ran out to get the car ready only to discover a peregrine falcon diving after its prey in our yard. A bizarre but intriguing experience as I watched from the kitchen window. We were ready to go. Overnight bag loaded, snacks , camera ...Hold the train! The memory card. I hadn't emptied the card. I had visions of clicking away at the shutter only to get the dreaded card full message and there was no way and on and on I ramble out excuses between contractions. I did a not-so-quick file transfer and we were off.

At the hospital, things started off slow. They confirmed what we already knew and then we waited. I was ok though the pain was gaining in intensity. At some unmarked moment everything changed. My friend arrived. My sister came in. There was a flurry of people in and out, checking, watching, silently waiting. I screamed, begging for relief. The nurses were tucked over in a corner negotiating who would be the unfortunate one to break it to me the only relief was delivery. Meds would not make it in time. I screamed. No one listened. I screamed with everything I had. They still didn't hear.
10 more minutes of body twisting, pretzel shapes, legs bent to my ears, ice-cold cloths and (you guessed it) more carnal screaming and it was over. Silence hung in the air. The doctor didn't even know anything more than a baby had been born.
The nurse who had taken the baby heard my disoriented question and responded with, "Congratulations, it's a girl!" and then the baby cried. I cried and they laid her in my arms. The newness, the wonder, the miracle. My daughter.
Happy Birthday, Baby-of-Mine.