Birth Day

I can remember the sensation of the air conditioner blowing on my neck... I was hot, sweating and the icy breeze was heaven. The Beach Boys were playing, though I don't remember the song. I was kneeling on the floor of the front passenger seat, a plastic Halloween bucket cradled in my arms, reminding my husband over and over - "Exit 25. Don't miss the exit."

I had labored all night at home, going from the tub, to the bed, and back to the tub. I was determined to wait as long as possible before heading to the hospital to deliver. I wanted to make it to the morning, wanted to deliver at an hour when my kids and my mom could be there. At some point the light began seeping through the bathroom window and I heard the birds singing and I knew I was at the finish line.

Things got intense very quickly and I remember waking up my husband, who had finally fallen asleep maybe an hour before... a neighbor came up to stay with the kids but first ended up helping me get dressed while Howard went to get the car, which was parked several blocks away. I struggled to get dressed between contractions. My oldest woke up briefly - I told him I was going and Nancy would watch them and they would be okay. I had so much wanted them to come with me but it couldn't happen now - it was too rushed, too intense.

Nan got me outside to the stoop and still no sign of Howard. I was sure that my youngest would be born on the steps but he finally rolled up and we were on our way. He had stopped for coffee. I have yet to forgive him.

I remember arriving at the hospital where Howard had to find a wheelchair and then push me. I remember the nurse's comments upon my exam: "Ten centimeters, fully effaced, baby at plus two station with a bulging bag." Relief flooded me. I had done it. Rushed to delivery where they insisted I sign the damn papers inbetween pushes. Delivery by an unknown doctor - mine did not arrive in time. A torturous aftermath where I could not deliver the placenta and they had to go in manually to get it.

And a baby boy, eight pounds, ten ounces, who had no idea of the chaos he'd been born into. Howard's eyes seemed to ask where he'd come from and why. I could only cry and hope that my husband's indifference and anger over the last nine months would evaporate the way his fear had with our older children.

No Rain

My youngest turned two last Saturday. Because we were out of town for an annual get-together on that day, we are having his party tomorrow.

I just realized that tomorrow is also two years to the day since his bris... It was pouring like I had never seen. We were leaving our apartment when my mother in law called telling me they might not make it because of weather. I got angry - "It's just a little rain!"... but even I couldn't imagine what was in for us on the road.

It took us 45 minutes to make what should have been a 10 minute drive... friends and family were stuck on the road for hours... and Husband and I were fighting and screaming at each other as we had been for months - for no reasons I can discern other than stress and fear - with the big kids (then 7 1/2 and 4 1/2) cowering in the back of the van.

The mohel called as we were arriving at the bakery to pick up the cake... at this point, we should have been at the temple half an hour already. He said, "Forget the cake, forget the guests... all we need is the baby," but I was distraught, crying. How could we do it alone? He was kind enough to change his schedule - he would leave for another appointment and come back to the temple later - AFTER the food - to do the ceremony. I sighed with relief...

When we arrived, a few guests were already waiting... others arrived in dribs and drabs... we did not want to serve the food until my father in law arrived to cut the challah... we were starving and stressed and the kids were wild... only the sweet baby slept and slept.

And finally we were all together and it was done, and when we left the temple, the sun was out and it was hot like any other July day.

The party tomorrow is in the park. Let's hope it doesn't rain.