Happy Birthday, Tertio

March 5, 1984. Liz's Birthday.

I thought I'd be at work at the Law School that day. I promised to work until my due date, which was that Monday. But on Friday, I was feeling pretty spunky...I felt good...energized. So I told them that I'd probably be in on Monday--whattheheck, right?

At around 7:30am on Monday, I called Joan and admitted, "Uh, I probably won't be in today; I'm kinda busy." I was in labor.

What? Me? On time for something? Especially after being about 3 weeks overdue with Meghan--I couldn't fathom actually being in labor ON my due date. But the contractions, now a familiar feeling after already having two kids, were timeable and increasing to the point where I felt we should saunter off to the hospital to begin the process.

Thankfully, Cuyahoga Falls General Hospital had created a few birthing rooms (instead of going to Cleveland, where they had them years before Akron got the notion) and my doctor agreed to serve as "Johnny Bench"--he'd let me "do my thing" and labor without much interference, only coming in the room to either a) chat if I were in the mood or b) catch a baby.

So, we've already established that I'm in favor of the Group Approach to Supportive Birthing. This time, in attendance (other than the required parties: Mom, Dad and Emergent Child) were Gayle + Meghan, totally ready to add another sibling to the ranks; sisters-in-law Marilyn and Annie (sorry, Anne...maybe I should've prepared you a little better); Gramma + Grandpa Q and Gramma M. Just a small bunch, but each one a much needed presence in that room at that time.

My dad had become an Old Pro at seeing his grandbabies arrive, having already witnessed Meghan's birth (which is a story I shall save for another time as his prior career as an ambulance driver did not entirely prepare him for a right-in-front-of-you birth). So around late morning, he felt comfortable in announcing that he had to leave to attend a meeting of bowling proprietors, as I recall. He said he would be back at 1:00 pm and he hoped that I'd hold off having the baby and wait for his return. Which, as a good daughter always trying to please, I did.

Liz was my easiest birth. Labor seemed easy, transition was a breeze, delivery was a snap. It was like: "*poot* she's here!" Okay, so maybe it was a little more effort than that--I do seem to recall that I felt I was "too old for this shit"--but after all, she was the smallest of the 3 girls at 8 lbs. 10 oz., which I attributed to working right up to the due date rather than sitting at home with My Soaps and chocolates.

A girl! I worked my checklist: 10 fingers, 10 toes, nice ears. Okay, she was a keeper just like her sisters. What was quite outstanding was her unusually *long* sandy hair! And the big blue eyes.

During the pregnancy, her sisters were permitted to come up with a name: Elizabeth Anne (with a proviso that there would be no "B" nicknames like "beth" or "betsy" as might accompany that particular first name--but later of course, "Lizard" would be perfectly acceptable). Elizabeth 'cause they liked it and Anne 'cause who doesn't love Annie?

Gayle was 5 and Meghan had turned 3 on the very day I returned to full-time employment. So I always felt badly that I had to go back to work more quickly after Liz's arrival than I originally planned. I was supposed to be able to stay at home for 6 months with her but an opportunity for promotion caused me to return to the Law School a month or two earlier than that. Luck for us, we found a sitter who lived just a couple of blocks away from home and would let me come over on my lunch hour to nurse my baby--it was as close to "normal" as I could arrange.

Lizzie's birth marked the end of a very wonderful period for me of healthy pregnancies, monumental deliveries, and happy nursing. I don't think I *ever* felt more accomplished--either before that time or since. I loved the entire process...but not as much as I love the result: my 3 faeries. I believe I lead a charmed life and I've been so happy to know that the girls are right there with me--every step, every misstep, every change, every day.

So have a GREAT 25th Birthday, Liz: you of the wildest hair, the dirty face, the surprising blue eyes, the ready smile -- our "alien sent to test us," a toddler-Capt. Furious, a real dazzler, the last of the bunch, the jewel in the crown. Yes, I'm so glad you're here...


xo mutti