The Night You Were Born

When my sister and I were young, we shared a room. We had matching twin beds, matching night stands, matching sheets, and matching bed times. But occasionally, we tried to outstay our 9:00 PM curfew by throwing ourselves what we called a 'Library Party.' It was a secret, exclusive affair, hosted by my sister on her bed under the big Noah's Ark painting. After our parents tucked us in and turned off the lights, our flash lights would go on, our books would come off our shelves, and my stuffed animals and I would climb onto Erin's bed. She would start reading me book after book with big plans to make this an all-night affair. For a half an hour or so, I would revel in our rebellion, but shortly after my innate need for sleep would lull me back to my own side of the room.

As perhaps fate would have it, I never managed to pull an all-nighter. In high school, if my work wasn't done by 9:00 PM, I would wake up early in the morning and finish it. In college, I couldn't understand why or how the architects and engineers could stay up all night to finish their projects. I was never around for the really juicy stories from the party that took place on the other side of midnight. And no amount of work, stress, or anxiety has fended off sleep for me recently.

However, on Wednesday night, I pulled my first real all-nighter - a crowning achievement. And with it, I developed my first Library Party book to read to Mary. 

On The Night You Were Born 

Adapted from the original, dedicated to my Mary Clare 

On the night you were born, I made homemade pizza for your Grandma, Daddy and me. 

Then we drove to the hospital, went straight back to Labor and Delivery, and checked in. 

On the night you were born, they gave me this medicine called Cervidil, which was supposed to just soften my cervix overnight. Mommy thought it was going to be a painless process, that I would get a good night sleep in the hospital, wake up refreshed, have a cup of tea, and then get the show on the road the next morning. 

On the night you were born, I was wrong. So wrong. 

On the night you were born, the Cervidil pushed me right into active labor while I cursed the choice of pizza for dinner and my one Tum allotment. 

On the night you were born, I scrapped by birthing plan and demanded an epidural. 

On the night you were born, I was denied, because the Cervidil and the anesthesia didn't complement each other. 

On the night you were born, I didn't sleep a wink. I drifted in and out of consciousness. In and out, then deeper in and less out of pain. 

On the night you were born, your Daddy held Mommy's hand and did all that he could to make me feel better. 

On the night you were born, there was a sweet nurse named Gia who helped your Mom get through some of the tougher pains too. 

On the night you were born, they pulled out the Cervadil and low and behold, I was already 6 centimeters dilated. I got raving reviews from my nurses and they finally paged the anesthesiologist. 

On the night you were born, the anesthesiologist took his grand old time, as Mommy curled up in more and more pain. 

On the night you were born, as the doctor with the drugs was trying to work his magic, I felt your little head and told the doctor to stop, 'I have to poop!' 

He said, 'that's not poop, check her.' 

On the night you were born, Dr. Halperin arrived and checked me. She said you're not getting drugs, you're going to have a baby. 

So along with a team of nice nurses, she told Mommy to push, push, PUSH! 

And I did, did, DID! 

Until you popped out and into our world. 

On the day you were born, in Early Riser style you woke up with the Midwestern sun at 7:20 AM. 

That same day, you got measured and weighed, 5 pounds 7 ounces, 20.25 inches, you stamped your tiny foot prints, and you got your first bath. 

You met your grandparents, Aunt Claire and Uncle Trent. 

We ate sushi and toasted you with my favorite champagne. 

You got showered with blessings and well wishes from your family and Mommy and Daddy's friends. 

You marveled us with your big blue eyes, full head of hair, and petite frame. 

And you made Mommy and Daddy cry. 

On the day you were born, you changed my life and filled my heart with a kind of love that is in indescribable - the kind of love that makes any amount of pain, drug-free and all, bearable. 

I would say, 'The End,' but it's just the beginning. 

Lo / Mommy.