P,
Words really can’t express my gratitude for your willingness to attend me in my most desperate moment. I was terribly sorry to interrupt afternoon tea, but when hubby mentioned that his meeting was incredibly important, and the contractions were no more than three minutes apart, I really felt I must take some decisive action. I was surprised that two other neighbors claimed their schedules didn’t allow a quick drive to the hospital as it was even on their way downtown. As a working mom, I certainly understand the drive to succeed, but this did seem like a necessary interruption, at least for me. Must confess I never met with such resistance in the Midwest, where giving birth is considered a function of the highest order. Fortunately, your attentive nature made sure you found me, submerged in the bathtub like a beached whale, moaning under the pulse of the shower head while sobbing into the phone about my plight.
After waddling to your house with bathrobe and suds trailing, I truly believe the PBS documentary about the wives of King Henry VIII and the hot cuppa saved me from complete hysteria. It calmed my nerves considerably and made me realize beheading could, possibly, be worse. Was a bit embarrassed when I remembered that your spouse worked from home and he called down to ask about the screams of agony coming from the family room. Considering my youngest was born within an hour of admission to the hospital, I think you made the right call when you insisted on rolling me to the car and drove like a shot to have me admitted. The dings on hubby’s SUV will always be considered as a glorious reminder of how hard you fought to get me where I needed to be.
It seems a tad unfortunate that my strongest recollection from the birth, besides the lack of pain medication, will be the midwife’s insistence that I was older than my thirty-seven years. Telling a woman about to give birth that she must really be forty-two does justify my immediate response about her excess facial hair, doesn’t it? Hope the thank you note with the enclosed depilatory kit makes things better between us.
Lucky for me hubby was able to zip in just under the wire to discover not only had I hired the hottest doula on the east coast but that wife and daughter were doing just fine. I had warned him, since I drove myself to the hospital for the birth of our first cherub, that when I say hurry, I really do mean get your ass here now. Fortunately, I was able to rouse him from sleep for the birth of the middle two and he didn’t have the option of claiming a work conflict.
I must admit your constant presence made all the difference as both the hairy midwife and the hired doula seemed to have no clue about the true nature of my pain. When I was screaming that I couldn’t take it anymore, and everyone else cooed that I was strong and brave, it was only your slap and commanding "Pull it together, Mama," which saved the day. As I mentioned, really do think you should reconsider a career in crisis management.
Gotta run as youngest is happily nursing and I have a client to call–can’t say they were glad to give me the two weeks away from their legal woes as it was. Must admit to feeling a bit overwhelmed trying to manage three olders while one more darling hangs almost constantly from my nipple. The au pair does seem grateful for my lessons about the true meaning of motherhood and confessed she will unfailingly take her birth control pills for many years to come. Who knew my greatest contribution might be as the poster child for teenage abstinence?
Faithfully,
C.
