1978 found me quite pregnant, awaiting the birth of our first child during a very cold January. I was already on maternity leave from teaching, having finished up at Christmas time. First time mothers are either confidant or petrified, although I prefer to think they are all petrified, but can’t admit it. My darkest hours were literally at night, Tom sleeping innocently in our bedroom, me in the bathroom for the umpteenth pee of the night, in the solitude of our little brick home, peering out the window into the night, wondering how in the heck this baby was coming out of me. It sounded ludicrously impossible. We hadn’t attended Lamaze class; Tom is not a candidate for any discussion of any sort of a medical intervention, mole removal and pregnancy included. I was doomed to conjure up circumstances that would literally scare the maternity pants off of even the most stalwart woman, which I apparently was not.
January 28th was a Sunday and another day of waiting. Watching the snow coming down and the thermometer drop, Tom and I realized we were in for quite a big storm. Little did we know when we went to bed that Emily was attempting her appearance.
At that time we lived literally a half block from the hospital. Looking out our back door we could see the emergency room entrance, across the alley, and then across the street. It didn’t seem far, good for us, we thought.
More snow, deeper, faster, big flakes, cold, cold winds. Not a storm, a blizzard at this point. Good old fashioned winter, like the one we have now. My bag was packed, as I was told to have it ready for “whenever I went into labor” whatever that meant to a not-too-informed person (me). I’m not sure exactly what time I awoke, it seemed like maybe it was shortly after I fell asleep, and an excruciating pain seemed to be grinding me in the back. It didn’t come in waves as I thought it would, it came and stayed, gripping me like a vise, to be honest. I decided to tell Tom that “it was time”, that age-old phrase.
Tom jumped into action, loaded my bag and me into the car, raised the garage door and gaped at the already quite high snow. At the time he was driving a VW Scirrocco, quite the sports car, and he managed to back out of the driveway, onto the street and drive a few feet before it became obvious that we wouldn’t make it around the block to the hospital that way. Fortunately I had put on my snow boots. Out of the car, back to the house, Tom trying to find someplace to park the car on the street now, since he wasn’t certain he could get it back into the garage.
We decided to walk through the back yard, across the alley, the parking lot, down the entrance ramp and into the emergency room. That sounds like a short walk, but with twenty extra pounds wobbling on my then small body and something kicking me in the back the whole way, the foot of snow seemed to be more like sinking sand then pleasant fluffy stuff. The wind made it unbearably cold. We made it, obviously.
Too many details of births are unnecessary reiterations of mothers, but suffice to say, my doctor decided pretty quickly on a C-section, the place was fairly deserted, I have no idea where Tom went to wait, and soon enough I was counting backwards from 100 to 99 to 98 to “you had a girl, what will her name be? Was I pregnant? I thought I was just sleeping, dreaming, drifting. “Emily Susan” I finally recalled. It was after 2 am in the morning, so her birthday would be Monday, January 29. Monday’s child is full of grace.
Sweetly, in the recovery room was a familiar face, a friend who was an RN, a bonus. She coaxed me out of my fog and gave me a run down on what to expect, how things had gone, etc. When I was able to leave recovery and be placed in a room there was Tom, cradling a little gift so sweet it made me hold my breath in awe of the scene. A tall man, holding a tiny bottle, and attempting to get Emily’s tiny mouth to suck on it. Wow seems like a dumb word for that moment, but it was wow to me. Or maybe I said “Yikes”.
One full week later, yes, in 1978 you had a week to recover from a C-section, Emily Susan was sent home with me, all 5 lbs 14 oz of her. All week the temperatures had been between 0 and 10 degrees, more snow fell, and a wintry grip was maintained on our little corner of the world. Tom was directed to bring me one of the new blankets for Emily; he managed to bring a receiving blanket, which caused the discharge nurse to have quite a snort. But he did warm up the car sufficiently so the little dear didn’t even notice. I was just thankful we didn’t have to walk home.
From that day, everything changed, didn’t it? A treasure arrived, out of the blizzard, into our hearts. Corny; yes, you bet. Very, very corny. We loved her then, and even more now, that treasure from the snow.
