Nineteen years ago, I spent the day with my then husband and my two middle children. My mom was visiting, she tried to get the Tall Boy to dance, and the Marine to play on his bittar. He said his tall man finger hurt, and he couldn't play.
She danced for the Tall Boy, and we caught it on film, a forever threat to her, that it would be put on national TV and now one that the children threaten to place on MySpace... her all dressed up, dancing a jig, thinking she's off camera, saying, "Come on, dance for Nana, comeon baby." in her syrup voice.
He looked at her and went back to his 123abc song on the piano.
Later, that lazy day, she and I went to a film. I declined popcorn or candy, a surprise as I'd only had one box of frozen Girl Scout Somoa's that day along with my usual meals. I wasn't hungry, my back hurt and I was irritiable.
On the way home, we had our usual fight, she slowed down long enough for me to lumber out of the car, slam the door, flip her off, and she sped away to Denver.
The husband decided to go to WalMart. This would be a three hour trip for one thing. He loved WalMart.
I put the boys to bed, sat on the sofa, and had a contraction.
I ignored it, the baby wasn't due for five weeks....and she was still breach. I had another one. I ignored it. Another one. At this point, they were five minutes apart. It was my third child, and I have Cesareans. Problem Cesareans. Major problem Cesareans.
I thought maybe I should do something, so, I washed out some underwear, and went back to the TV.
My water started to leak.
I called my mom, her phone was busy...and I worked for the phone company. Did I think to have the operator break in? Hell no. I started calling everyone I knew. Not a single person was home. Panic started to sink in.
I called my friend and doctor, Dr. Mary, who said, "What the fuck are you doing at home, get her now!!". I went and started to pack a bag... and cry. Around this time, my dear friend in that era, Nancy, called, I explained what had happened, and she drove over.
It was at her home that I fell when I was in labour with the Marine, and she was there all the way. She is one of those I wish I'd not lost contact with in my life.
The husband showed up when I was in the shower.
Now, we didn't always have a great marriage. Both of us hurt the other in many ways. This day, and the next few, though, remain a shinning oasis in my memory.
I refused to leave the shower, my legs were hairy.. it obsessed me to get them shaved. I was huge, realise. I always went straight out on my babies, never showed from the back, but, when I turned around, it was for days.
He stripped, got in the shower, and shaved them for me.
We dashed.... well, he did, I lumbered...to the van. I was having contractions at this point every 2 minutes. The trip to the hospital took 20 minutes on a normal day, we made it in 12....actually, 15. I made him stop for film. This man usually was quite calm...but, he drove down the highway yelling, "DON'T PUSH!! FOR GOD'S SAKE, DON'T PUSH!!". You see, I never dilated, so, pushing wasn't a good idea, even though I really wanted to.
We stopped at a corner store, he ran inside, grabbed film, and threw a twenty at the clerk, not waiting for change. For a man who could squeeze a penny until it cried, that was something.
Getting to the maternity ward was him running backwards and me meandering in, stopping every so often to pant through my 45 second contractions. We saw Mary up ahead. It had been over an hour since I'd called her. She ran over to me, stood there, five inches shorter and a good 70 lbs lighter, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me saying, "You stupid bitch, where in THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN????"
Seems an operating team had been waiting for me and my breach baby.
We were strapped to a gurney, drugs, blessed drugs went into my spine, and an ultra sound was done...lo and behold! she'd turned. She was in proper position for birth. I asked if I could go home. Four heads turned, and as one said, "No."
Wheeled in, it was fast work. Even in position, she was five weeks early. She was a good weight, but, her lungs wouldn't be ready for this new world. Fast incision, usually Mary and her husband would chat during a delivery... I love them both. This was quiet, focused. None of Robert's usual jokes, Mary had her game face on.
They pulled her out, I said, "Does she have red hair?" Mary said, no, but, she's beautiful, so beautiful!"
She was almost black... and not making any noise. A quick gasp, and a wail. They worked on her, she wasn't pinking up right... I didn't hear more because they put me out.
When I came to, I could hear a crooning. I looked over, and in my room was a cot...on the cot was my little girl, wrapped up, with an IV and oxygen, and being held by her dad. He'd never stayed with me before, always leaving to go home after a birth. This one was so touch and go, he asked to have a bed in our room.
It was the closest I ever felt to him in our marriage.
He brought her over, and laid her in my arms... I fell in love there. So hard and fast. The boys took me some time, some getting used to. Her, it was...I knew I'd kill anyone, anything that hurt her. She was...she was my baby. Unplanned, unexpected, a girl. I feared I'd repeat what was done to me, and swore then and there I'd make sure I didn't.
I crooned to her our song...the one the woman, her great-grandmother, the first Katie, used to sing to me... "Oh, K-k-k-kattie, beautiful Katie, you're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore. When the m-m-m-moonshine is over the c-c-c-c-cowshed, I'll be w-w-w-waiting at the k-k-k-k-kitchen door.".
I kissed her for the first time... but not the last.
Happy Birthday, my beloved, my sweet, my sassy, my naughty, my dearest Cait.
You are the only girl I'll adore.
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