Thursday, September 5, 2019

Day 193



The museum duty was slow and I walked up and down the stairs a lot. The green beans were gone at the farmers’ market and I bought cabbage and peppers plus BBQ chicken  lunch at Rebecca’s stand. Rosalie sent her piece on Finding Purpose that stimulated me into writing while the car was being serviced. I can put my part on paper before we meet for lunch. Later is Tea and stories group and it’s always a treat. I enjoy the sharing and socializing.



He has a headache. I sit on the edge of the bed in the dark room and listen to waves of wind driven rain rhythmically battering the window. “Give me an hour.”  “I don’t have another hour.” I have been pacing throughout the night with the waves of labor rhythmically battering my body. “I’ll take myself.” As I start to get dressed, he groans. “Oh, all right. I’ll get up.” He pulls on his clothes. “Wait by the door.” He goes into the storm to the P. L. office where the only phone in Scotia is located. I pace and sit and pace and sit. This baby is not going to wait for her father to take us to the doctor and the hospital. I go to bed and try to relax when in one big push my baby is born. I pick her up and lay her on my chest where I feel her lungs expand and she lets out a greeting that makes me smile and laugh out loud. I pull up the sheet to cover us as she raises her head and looks me in the eyes. She squirms and it feels familiar as she has been doing that in my womb. It takes an hour for her father to return. He messed up the phone calls, ending up calling his mother for help. When he gets back to the house, he has locked himself out and needs to break down the front door. Then he takes out his pocket knife and cuts the cord, wraps her in one of his undershirts and leaves again. This time he goes the few blocks to the hospital and brings back a nurse who delivers the afterbirth. We are taken to the hospital where I can’t go in the ward and she can’t go in the nursery so they stick us in a storeroom for a few hours and then send us home. Her cry was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

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