Party of Five

I check in at 6:30 a.m. to get induced.

By 8 o'clock the drip is entering my veins. Let's get this party started.

(hours and hours of staring out the window watching the light change hues)

At 2 o'clock I am only dilated to a 6. Everett's head isn't putting pressure on my cervix so the nurses fetch a giant curved yoga ball called "The Peanut", dress it in a hospital gown, and shove it between my knees while I rest on my side. I call RE and tell her Dr. H doesn't think anything will happen until dinnertime. She tells me to get cracking and have this baby.

(Handrail-gripping contraction #1)

Me: Greg, is the contraction off the monitor?

Greg: No, it looks the same as the others.

(Handrail-gripping-I-might-pass-out contraction #2)

Me: DUDE! Something is wrong. I think I just ripped in half.

Greg: No, it still looks the same. But call the nurse if you’re worried.

(pushes call button)

Nurse enters and peeks under my gown. Her eyes pop out of her head. His head has crowned! Don’t move! Don’t move! All available nurses are summoned. Their eyes pop out. Major bees-in-a-beehive buzzing and scurrying. I ask if Dr. H is going to make it over from the other building. Not a chance. Inside I die a little because I rely on Dr. H's chill countenance and sense of humor. I mean, we both hate the Apple Store and how their employees make us feel. If you can't have that in common with your OBGYN I don't know what you can have.

Dr. H waltzes in; he happens to be on the birthing floor checking on another mommy-to-be. I breathe a sigh of relief into my happy balloon; it inflates a little. His eyes pop out the most. DON’T MOVE! A sheet is deftly slid under me. "The Peanut" is removed as carefully as the wishbone from Operation. My hips accidentally rotate a few inches. Everett’s head pops out, his body quickly follows. I witness a fresh baby slipping out of me with no pushing. It's 2:22. I ask if I can sign "The Peanut" but am denied due to HIPAA laws. I call RE and ask if that was fast enough.

I am washed up and the HAZMAT bags of who-knows-what-fell-in-the-bucket are hermetically sealed and removed from the premises (joke, sort of). I am wheelchaired to Room 219 in the Mother/Baby unit. The spartan interior decorating doesn't give me much to look at. I stare at my room number plaque for hours before it hits me. In the LDS Hymnbook #219 is “Because I Have Been Given Much.” Yes. Yes I have.

Greg, RE and I sat in life’s lobby for years awaiting seats at the smorgasboard. No, we didn't want to eat at the bar to avoid the wait. No, we didn't want our unlimited feast of plenty boxed up for takeout. We just wanted our buzzer to go off when it was our turn to eat. Well, it’s buzzing now. Lawson, party of five, your table is ready.

And this is his smell. This is what I will always associate with his delicious, squishy, all-curled-up-like-a-snail newborn body:

(Place card chairs from Suz. Soap from Aunt Lynne a.k.a. "The European.")