She was a Keeper

Last night I heard a guy on TV telling a story about a fish he'd caught. The excitement, the drama, the little bit of exaggeration...it reminded me of how women tell their stories of labor and childbirth. We may not be able to recall what we had for breakfast today, but we remember every detail of our babies' arrivals.
My water broke at 4:30 A.M. the day after Labor Day, 1986. This was it! My contractions were mild and infrequent, so Fred and I waited around a few hours and then went to school to make sure we had things ready for our substitute teachers. Fred made me sit on a garbage bag because we had just gotten a new car! We stayed at a friend's apartment in town until the contractions became regular, then headed to the hospital in Merrill. For some reason I was craving graham crackers, so we bought a box of them on the way. At the hospital, we checked in, they weighed me--OH MY GOD!!--and got me into a gown. Then the labor began in earnest.
I walked the halls, laid on my side while Fred massaged my back, sat on the toilet--which oddly offered some relief from the pain. The "birth plan" I'd idealistically written up ahead of time called for natural childbirth with no drugs. Was I CRAZY??! I did my Lamaze breathing and gazed at my focal point, wondering how I'd ever let this happen to me.
Around 5 P.M. Marilyn, our friend from school, stopped in to see how I was doing. I was now in hour 12, and told Fred "NO ONE but you and the nurses get to see me like this!!" Snarl! Hiss! I sent him off to eat something since he'd skipped lunch and might miss supper.
The evening dragged on, and still no baby in spite of the never-before-experienced-by-any-woman-EVER pain I was in. Around 9:30 P.M. the doctor ordered an IV of pitocin to "increase the quality" of my contractions. I thought they were pretty darn spectacular the way they were. Soon I was dilated to 10 centimeters and able to push. Aaaagghhhh! Fred had discovered the box of graham crackers we'd bought that morning--I never even ate any--and was munching on one as I closed my eyes and pushed through another excruciating contraction. "Would you swallow that damn cracker??!!" I growled in a demon's voice from hell. To this day he swears that cracker went down his throat with its corners still intact.
After four hours of pushing, I was threatening to jump out the hospital window if they didn't do a C-section, and the fetal monitor showed the baby was in some distress. The decision was made for surgery, and I decided that drugs are heavenly as the epidural took effect. Fred was seated by my head, with his very own nurse in case he passed out. In no time at all we were presented with an 8 lb. 14 oz. baby girl who had a full head of black hair. "She looks like Gary Behnke!!" (a friend of ours) were my first words. She arrived at 2:47 A.M. September 3rd, in the 23rd hour after my water had broken.
It didn't take long for the memories of the pain to fade--until 2 1/2 years later when Katie was about to arrive. When the doctor asked if I wanted a repeat C-section, I said YES!! And we did not stop for crackers on the way to the hospital.