Happy Birthday, Secundo!

[This is a couple of days late but still, very heartfelt...]

Wow, I can't believe it...Meghan is 30. Three-zero. Zero-to-thirty in the blink of an eye.

You know, it's funny--I recall the early portions of my labors with Gayle and Liz with relative ease. However, with Meghan, her birth was so outstanding of an event that some of the early moments seemed to have faded. Yes, there are colorful graphic slides of this birthing experience safely tucked away in their special carousel...more slides than anyone should have. But Meghan's arrival was one helluva trip and I'm glad there's some documentation because, frankly, sometimes I have trouble believing that it really happened!

I was due to deliver on September 30, 1979. Yet in August, because of my ballooning belly, the doctor hinted that I "couldn't get much bigger" and that I might deliver sooner than we thought--maybe even in August. Then throughout September, I continued to grow and was told the same thing: "soon, very soon." I had outgrown most of my maternity clothes, which were summer-y, and in the cooler fall, began to put together strange combinations of turtleneck sweaters that barely stretched to the top of my big belly, strappy voluminous maternity sundresses, knee-high cableknit socks, and Dr. Scholl sandals.

I was quite a sight. I clearly remember walking through a mall with Gramma O'Kate who was delighted in noting the stares of people walking by us--"Did you SEE how that person looked at you???" Well, having the appearance of a person who was very likely to drop a monster watermelon from between her legs at any given moment *did* get me out of paying some library fines. (She [looking straight at my huge belly]: "OH! When are you due?" me: "Today." She: "OOHH! OOOHHH!!" me: "I have some fines to pay on these books I'm returning." She: "No, NO--nevermind! Please. You should probably just GO HOME!!")

In mid-October, I was given a "non-stress" test to be sure that all was well with the baby--the verdict: "unbelievable, but still cooking." Late at night, I had visions of scenes from the movie "Alien" in which the creatures came bursting out of the humans' abdomens...I mean, how else was this child going to emerge?? Finally, on the evening of October 17, I felt the welcome labor pains. Woo hoo! We were going to have a baby!!

The details of the labor were a little clouded behind the 3 hour transition--especially since the transition phase is supposed to last about--oh, 45 minutes! But once I was "cleared" to push, it was like the heavens parted and the sun began to shine and I could hear choirs of angels rooting me on: "Push, PUSH!"

Yay, me! FINALLY!! Bloooop--there SHE was: Meghan! (And they told me to expect a boy--HAH! WE don't do boys in this family--at least, not yet!) Meghan with the chubby cheeks--well, chubby everything!--long straight silky black hair and eyes so very dark brown they looked black instead of regular "new-baby-blue." With no signs of being overdue, she weighed ELEVEN pounds THREE-and-a-half ounces--a Booth Women's Hospital (Cleveland) record-breaker! The pediatrician who examined her told me: "Ma'am, you've just given birth to a perfect three-month-old!"

Here is where I should probably explain myself. I had Meghan naturally--no drugs and no anesthetics with the episiotomy. My parents were with us, as was my mother-in-law, dear sister-in-law, a friend who was a midwife and toddler Gayle, who handled the proceedings like a seasoned champ. So when you have an 11# 3.5 oz. baby under those circumstances, you say it just like that: "my largest baby weighed ELEVEN pounds THREE-and-a-half ounces and I had her naturally." That's how I say it. You want credit for every single bit of baby that emerged. Just saying "more than eleven pounds" just doesn't cut it. See, just 11 pounds might've been a bit easier--3.5 oz. easier. But she weighed ELEVEN pounds and THREE-and-a-half ounces!

The day we brought her home, the leaves were in "fall peak" yet it was unseasonably warm and sunny...a perfect golden day to bring home a perfect baby!

We were incredibly lucky that she was so large and healthy at birth because at 3.5 months, she was Ohio's first case of Infantile Botulism, a rare neurological disease. She was in the hospital, paralyzed, for four weeks. For the first week the doctors were stumped--they had never seen such a thing and it wasn't until later that a resident read about it in a medical journal. With no muscle activity, her face dropped like she'd had a stroke, her heart stopped at one point and her lungs collapsed, along with other related problems. All we could do was wait and hope--there were no antibiotics to help Meghan fight it. But she was a fighter! Happily, after 4 weeks of waiting, Meghan began to move and was released to go home soon after she began nursing again.

Following Meghan's illness, she was a bundle of movement. She would wake early in the morning and sing with the birds. Too early, actually, and after singing her jibberish songs, she would fall back to sleep until a more reasonable hour. She walked early--she talked early--and having had quite enough time at home with Mom and Dad--she began preschool early. As we expected, she endeared herself to her preschool teachers--she was the bright, cheerful girl with the open face and deep dimples with pretty black hair that curled uncontrollably around her face as the day went on.

She was my "Little Chairman" who turned into a beautiful woman. Meghan always fights for what she believes is right, she has a sensitive streak that remains close to the surface, she is extremely loyal to her family and friends, and she believes that being 'different' is more-than-okay. I am so proud of her--as I am of her sisters. And truth be told, the three of them helped make me into who I am today. I am always grateful for their company and their love.

So, happy birthday, Maynan--you deserve it. And, of course, I'm so happy you're here...
xo mutti