SassTown

We were not flower children at the time but my daughter, who just turned 17, was born in a Caravan. Literally, a dark blue 1988 Dodge Caravan. The mother of minivans which helped bring Chrysler back to life as an auto company. The mode and method of her arrival should have clued us into the passionate, determined and dramatic nature that would eventually emerge. It was a gorgeous fall day when I awoke from my nap in labor. Back in the day I was a very calm person so I went about my duties while trying to notify all the necessary family and friends that today was the day.

 I had a group of women praying for me to have a quick labor as my experience with my third baby had been a prolonged drawn out event. I was definitely in labor after I finished putting lasagna in the oven and my husband and children arrived home. He was in host mode, setting up for a party like atmosphere. He was quite surprised at my cranky and atypical reaction to contractions. Things were indeed moving along quickly and with increasing intensity. My caregivers who were to help me in labor were unable to arrive in the time frame I was now wanting them to. I decided it was time to leave for the hospital NOW. So, off we went. My friend was going to bring the kids up to join us as soon as we called them from the hospital.

Into the back seat of the Caravan I went, along with my trusty pillow which I effectively used to muffle my moans. Between contractions I urged my husband (we’ve discussed his driving personality here in past posts) to DRIVE FASTER. Being the stellar OB nurse that I am, I recognized the signs of “transition” and it dawned on me that we were not making it to the hospital in time. “PULL OVER!!!!!” I screamed repeatedly, but Raymondo did not want to believe me. I persisted and he pulled off on the side of Dixboro Road near the rail road tracks and on a bridge over the Huron River. My irrational concern was “ I can’t get these blasted shorts off!” So around the minivan he comes, cautiously sliding open the door and out popped Hailey in the most furious manner. Caught by her horrified proud and capable daddy.

And I was completely clothed!

It was a miracle but I didn’t need to get those stretchy baggy maternity shorts off to birth that child. The staff at the hospital were amazed that this lunatic woman had given birth in her van and thought it important to get her shorts back on (so they assumed). Unfortunately I had arrived at the same hospital I used to work labor and delivery in so I had to endure much mocking and teasing about being unable to make it all the way there in time. The family at home was in total disbelief when Ray called to say we had a girl, they thought he was pulling their leg. We had just left home about 40 minutes before that and I had hid my discomfort before leaving.

And then there was Hailey, all scrawny 5 pounds of her. Despite being born on her due date she had experienced lack of placental nutrients the last month or so and had actually lost weight in my final month of pregnancy (technically intrauterine growth retardation- IUGR). She was born around 7 p.m. and we left the hospital in the morning. I never was much for staying in the hospital (an ironic quirk being a nurse). Back at home we didn’t know what to make of her. She was as sweet as babies come, but she looked like an Ethiopian refugee. Later that day I went out to the minivan to find someone’s lost homework. I slid open the side door to look in the pocket there behind the seat. I found the missing assignment. I also found a partially eaten plate of lasagna (now whose could that be?) and plenty of CSI evidence that a birth had taken place in that car. It seems that my precious husband had gagged trying to clean up the mess, so he procrastinated about getting back to that job.

Luckily, he married a woman with a pioneer spirit and an ability to push on through tasks that are often nauseating.