minutes to have a baby.
I was scared because I didn't know what it was going to be like. My mom was talking to me again because of it; she tried to tell me I'd know what to do when the time came. I didn't believe her.
"I know it hurts," I said, "but what does it hurt like?"
"I don't know," my mom said. "It's not the kind of pain you remember."
"Is it like a sharp pain that goes away or a dull pain that just stays there and grows?"
"Stop working yourself up," she said. "It's a natural process. Your body will know what to do. Just be thankful you've got my hips."
I know it was supposed to help, but all I could picture was my pelvis snapping like a wishbone.
Everything she said scared me. First I'd feel my water break and run hot down my legs. Between then and the delivery I had to worry about infection. Sometimes the baby could get sideways or strangle on its own cord. Sometimes when the head didn't crown right they had to cut you. And then there was the whole C-section thing. In the diagram they made it look like opening one of those little cereals you eat right in the box.
"Don't worry," my mom said. "There's nothing you can do about it anyway."
That was the problem, I wanted to say; I felt helpless. I was getting bigger and bigger and the time was going by so slowly. We'd picked names and I'd had a shower and we'd bought a crib. We did the amnio and it was okay; it was a boy, so we started calling my belly Gainey. It was summer and uncomfortable. Now just standing hurt. It got to the point where Lamont and me had to stop making love. I flipped the calendar and there was my due date circled in red. It was like now, I was just waiting for this thing to happen to me. It was coming and there was nothing I could do.
And for everyone else it wasn't a big deal. My doctor, my mom — they'd all been through it before, they knew everything that was going to happen, but that didn't tell me how it was going to feel.
I'd cry and Lamont would tell me everything was going to be all right, but I could tell he was scared too. I said he didn't have to be in the delivery' room and then in the middle of the night one night I changed my mind and made him promise.
My doctor got my due date wrong by two weeks. It was supposed to be July 4th, which we thought was neat, but it turned out to be the 19th. We were ready to go that whole time, we had a bag packed and everything. When I finally went into labor we were relieved.
It was right after dinner on the 18th. We had take-out from Johnny's Char-broiler. I was on the couch watching something and my stomach just started to cramp. It was like I had to go so bad but I couldn't. Your muscle hurts like a charley horse; the best thing is not to fight it but that's your instinct. It hits you and then goes away, but you know it's coming around again. Lamont called my doctor. My water hadn't broken so she said not to come in until my contractions were seven to ten minutes apart. Lamont took his watch off to time them.
We watched TV until midnight, and they were still twenty minutes apart.
"You should get some rest," I told Lamont, but he said he was okay. He was drinking my diet Pepsis and smoking up a storm. I could barely stand the smell.
The late movie was Alien. Lamont clicked it over to Letterman.
We were sitting there about ten minutes later when the backs of my thighs felt wet. I looked down and the couch was soaked. I kept apologizing while Lamont called.
He'd backed the Roadrunner into its spot so we could take off. He put two towels down on my seat and helped me in. He started the engine and flicked on the lights, released the emergency brake and rolled out of the lot. It was like a robbery; we hardly said anything. I'd never seen him take Choctaw so slowly. There was nobody out, but he was careful to signal, and careful of his mirrors.
The doctor wasn't there yet, and the nurse made us wait in a room with another woman who was crying between contractions. They hooked me up to
I was scared because I didn't know what it was going to be like. My mom was talking to me again because of it; she tried to tell me I'd know what to do when the time came. I didn't believe her.
"I know it hurts," I said, "but what does it hurt like?"
"I don't know," my mom said. "It's not the kind of pain you remember."
"Is it like a sharp pain that goes away or a dull pain that just stays there and grows?"
"Stop working yourself up," she said. "It's a natural process. Your body will know what to do. Just be thankful you've got my hips."
I know it was supposed to help, but all I could picture was my pelvis snapping like a wishbone.
Everything she said scared me. First I'd feel my water break and run hot down my legs. Between then and the delivery I had to worry about infection. Sometimes the baby could get sideways or strangle on its own cord. Sometimes when the head didn't crown right they had to cut you. And then there was the whole C-section thing. In the diagram they made it look like opening one of those little cereals you eat right in the box.
"Don't worry," my mom said. "There's nothing you can do about it anyway."
That was the problem, I wanted to say; I felt helpless. I was getting bigger and bigger and the time was going by so slowly. We'd picked names and I'd had a shower and we'd bought a crib. We did the amnio and it was okay; it was a boy, so we started calling my belly Gainey. It was summer and uncomfortable. Now just standing hurt. It got to the point where Lamont and me had to stop making love. I flipped the calendar and there was my due date circled in red. It was like now, I was just waiting for this thing to happen to me. It was coming and there was nothing I could do.
And for everyone else it wasn't a big deal. My doctor, my mom — they'd all been through it before, they knew everything that was going to happen, but that didn't tell me how it was going to feel.
I'd cry and Lamont would tell me everything was going to be all right, but I could tell he was scared too. I said he didn't have to be in the delivery' room and then in the middle of the night one night I changed my mind and made him promise.
My doctor got my due date wrong by two weeks. It was supposed to be July 4th, which we thought was neat, but it turned out to be the 19th. We were ready to go that whole time, we had a bag packed and everything. When I finally went into labor we were relieved.
It was right after dinner on the 18th. We had take-out from Johnny's Char-broiler. I was on the couch watching something and my stomach just started to cramp. It was like I had to go so bad but I couldn't. Your muscle hurts like a charley horse; the best thing is not to fight it but that's your instinct. It hits you and then goes away, but you know it's coming around again. Lamont called my doctor. My water hadn't broken so she said not to come in until my contractions were seven to ten minutes apart. Lamont took his watch off to time them.
We watched TV until midnight, and they were still twenty minutes apart.
"You should get some rest," I told Lamont, but he said he was okay. He was drinking my diet Pepsis and smoking up a storm. I could barely stand the smell.
The late movie was Alien. Lamont clicked it over to Letterman.
We were sitting there about ten minutes later when the backs of my thighs felt wet. I looked down and the couch was soaked. I kept apologizing while Lamont called.
He'd backed the Roadrunner into its spot so we could take off. He put two towels down on my seat and helped me in. He started the engine and flicked on the lights, released the emergency brake and rolled out of the lot. It was like a robbery; we hardly said anything. I'd never seen him take Choctaw so slowly. There was nobody out, but he was careful to signal, and careful of his mirrors.
The doctor wasn't there yet, and the nurse made us wait in a room with another woman who was crying between contractions. They hooked me up to
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