Friday the13th IS Lucky

My baby, Pally, turns 11 today. My how time flies.  You know how a lot of blogger mom’s share their birth stories? Well, I’m not going to do that, not exactly.  My memory isn’t good enough to share reliably. (Yes, my family makes tremendous fun of me for being forgetful. I have been known to ask a kid about homework 3 or 4 times in the same afternoon, and the Hubs claims I am NOT a reliable witness.) I thought I’d share how Friday the 13th has become something lucky for us, as parents.

Pally, doing what Pally does.

It all started in 1999. I was expecting Darling Girl No. 1. She was a breech baby, we knew she was breech, and I’d been doing the “stand-on-your-head” exercises that they give you on the handout when the Docs know your baby is the wrong way around. I was scheduled for an external version (where they try to turn the little peanut from the outside) at the 38 week mark. Guess what day that would have been? You guessed it Friday the 13th of August. Did I make it to that day? Nope. I didn’t go a day over 37 weeks 5 days with either girl. Darling Girl No. 1 (from now on referred to as DG1) decided that she should start making her entry into the world on August 10. That bought me a night in the hospital, being administered meds to try to stop my labor until the OB decided he wanted to crawl out of bed, and be at the hospital to see us at 8 a.m. (Can you tell I’m still a little miffed about that?) The OB and our family doctor, who would have attended the deliver if DG1 had flipped the right way around, spent what seemed like an eternity trying to turn her. But, nope, she was trying to escape both feet first. And it didn’t remain an external version. Our family doctor, Dr. Walrus* spent some time trying to dislodge DG1’s feet. Yes, the OB dilly-dallied around long enough that things were progressing a little faster than he expected. So, I got a nice trip to the O.R. where I proceeded to vomit & itch during the entire procedure. I ended up with a healthy pink (actually, her first few hours she was purple, but I guess that happens with c-section babies) bundle of cuteness, so it was all worth it.

Now, for Darling Girl No. 2 (who will now be referred to as DG2). I was due sometime at the end of July, 2001. No, I don’t remember the date. I assume it was around the 29th, but I don’t know which box in the basement has the baby books in it, so….we’ll go with that. I had good contractions on and off all that week. So good in fact that we were at the hospital twice in the first half of the week, where things would be going along pretty well, and then stop completely. By Thursday, at my regular weekly appointment my midwife, who also happens to be a friend, said we could think about some “help”. She’d already done everything she could to help get things moving, outside of my being admitted to the hospital. Everyone one agreed that it was the best idea to get the ball rolling. It didn’t help that the Hubs was leaving on SATURDAY to start a new job in Tennessee, so I kept thinking every time my labor starter, “Wahoo. This is it. Now I don’t have to worry about him getting here on time.” After conferring with the supervision OB, and my having spent the rest of Thursday hiking around our neighborhood trying to get things moving, she called and told me to be at the hospital bright and shiny Friday morning. I think we checked in around 9. By 5 p.m. we were snuggling our new, healthy, beautiful baby girl.

So, Friday the 13th, you don’t scare me. I look forward to them, on every one of them my thoughts turn to the day my DG2 was born, and then I think about how DG1 could have been a Friday the 13th baby as well. I expect something good from Friday the 13th. I could have received the greatest blessing on that day in 1999 (if my scheduled version hadn’t worked, they’d have done a c-section that same day to deliver DG1), and I did receive the greatest blessing on that “scary” day, almost two years later in 2001, with the birth of DG2.

 

* Dr. Walrus was NOT his real name. Bless that wonderful man, but he had a crazy, huge, very full mustache.

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