A couple days ago, one of my students wanted to interview me. He is in a class (don't remember which one) where they are supposed to interview some women who have gone through childbirth - and then they will compare notes in a group discussion. As one of those women who did not enjoy being pregnant (perhaps I would have if I could have looked like Jennifer Gardner does right now), I always have plenty to share about those nine months!
Here is my favorite story from that time. I went into labor the Saturday of ACC Men's BBall tournament weekend (you North Carolinians know how serious that is). When Duke lost that afternoon, I was hoping, "Maybe this will send me into labor and we'll get this over with!" My wish was granted later that day.
Hubby and I arrived at the hospital about 4am. I had been in heavy labor for a number of hours and the doctor thought if things kept progressing, Sonny Boy would arrive by about 7-8am. (The other part of this story is that Sonny Boy, with his perfectly shaped, big head and shoulders - did not arrive until after 7pm - thus causing my husband to miss the ACC final - and no, I will never let Hubby forget that comment.)
My parents arrived at the hospital early Sunday morning, anxiously awaiting their first grandchild. My Granny and brother Jerry lived with them (Granny still does, but thankfully a woman came along to take Jerry off our hands :). I spent most of Sunday morning walking up and down the halls, through the waiting area, and just pausing for a contraction. Mom was in the waiting room and was very supportive. At some point Sunday morning, Granny and Jerry arrived. "I thought they were going to church," I told Mom. She shrugged, saying she thought the same. So - I continue walking around in pain, doing my own prayers ("Please God! Get this over with !!!")
Granny didn't speak to me - she just looked and then went to Mom (standing beside me) and said, "Jackie, give Amy some lipstick - she looks sick!" I gave my best outraged, evil eye, while Mom tried to get Granny to sit down and not say anything else that would make me bananas.
Seems like most good Southern women know that lipstick does cure most things.
1 comment:
Amy, that is a fricking brilliant story. My grandmother would have said the same thing.
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