It seemed like a good use of time. Labor had begun, but was progressing slowly. No sense not getting some chores taken care of while we waited at home. Most worthwhile seemed the leaky toilet.
I can’t remember what I was thinking, but at some point I moved the toilet too far and ruptured the fresh water feed at the valve. Water was spraying everywhere and there was no way to turn it off. Well into labor or not, the expectant mother went rushing around outside looking for the main shutoff, and then the tool to turn its valve. I stayed with the toilet trying to stem the geyser with my hand or a towel or whatever. I think actually at one point we switched roles, but ultimately I was the better stopper and the one heavy with child had to get the water off, which she eventually did.
A lot of water can come out of a small pipe in ten minutes (it may have been longer). A lot of water. No matter, we needed more. So it was then — not too surprisingly given all that exercise — that the mother’s water broke.
This was around noon. The afternoon was spent cleaning up the mess and waiting for the landlord to come home that evening so he could repair the plumbing. (I’d done all the harm they’d let me do for one day.) The labor stalled and soon mother, grandmother and obstetrician were playing cards, while I waited for game seven of the NBA Championship to begin. You know the one, the classic where Willis Reed hobbled onto the court, hit his first two shots, psyched out the Lakers, and the Knicks won 113-99.
Or so I’ve heard, because I never saw the game. After lulling us into lethargy all afternoon, at about 6 PM the baby abruptly said “I’m ready” and within a few minutes — 34-years ago today — Jill was born — at home1 in a house that had no running water.
That baby is now a wonderful mother of two herself. And, honoring family tradition, her second was born in a hospital with no potable water thanks to last September’s Hurricane Isabel. That plumbing problem wasn’t my fault.
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1 Home delivery hadn’t been planned. The grandmother however, was an obstetrics nurse and the doctor was there as a courtesy to her. Given the baby’s sudden impatience, staying at home was just about imperative.
The doctor and the Nurse were in Phoenix at a medical thing a ma bob. Luckily a private plane and pilot became available and so they flew to Tucson. Later that night I flew back to Phoenix and claimed my car. It was a long day, but the memories are still vivid after 34 years.
Happy Birthday Goddaughter!
I remember the day well, too, because I was commissioned to take the little two-year-and-two-day old brother away during all the excitement. I was a teen-ager at the time, and was sometimes the family baby-sitter. I was also given the honor of becoming the Godmother of the new little baby girl. Happy Birthday, Dear One!
Thanks, newMexiKen, for the nice story. I never tire of hearing all about the day I barged into the world. I had a wonderful birthday and appreciate the nice messages from my Godparents.
Another wonderful memory and terrific day. It certainly was one of the more hectic days of my life but ended by being able to cuddle my beautiful baby girl.