Raining. Flood Warning. Ugh.
Kai was born over three years ago, and I haven’t finished his birth story. I’ve started his birth story, but it’s not done. Last night I wrote about the music that playing the night he was born, and tonight, I’m going to start cleaning out the recesses of my memory –
February fifth would begin the longest work week of my life. February fifth was when my long-term sub would come in to shadow me for her first days and my last before my maternity leave. When she walked in wearing a fur – I knew it was going to be a long day. When she snapped her fingers in one of my student’s faces – well I knew things were going to get interesting – and When she started cleaning my room while I taught some of my final lessons to my ninth graders — I knew that my leave couldn’t come fast enough.
That it was tense in stressful in my classroom those days is an understatement – this woman was to teaching what Martha Stewart is to homemaking. I am a woman who revels in my imperfections, I learn from them and grow beyond them – I’m not sure that this woman knew what it was to have ever have a spot on her clothes or a slip showing – for she wouldn’t let such thing happen.
Thankfully she would leave at two on the dot, “they’re certainly not paying me enough to stay past the bell” – and I would dig into my last bits of paperwork. On Wednesday I figured I would make the last push – by five o’clock though, I still had a small pile left to go through – and I was so tired – but, figured I still had two days to get through everything.
When I walked through the door – your father, who I will remind you, was everything I needed during the time I carried you- told me to take a nap, and he would cook up some dinner. At seven we sat down to a big ol’ TJ’s pot roast dinner. After dinner, I put on my pj’s and settled down on the couch to watch my favorite show of the moment “Friday Night Lights” . As the show was about to finish up – at 8:50 I felt a pop. I got up, and walked towards the bathroom, by the time I hit the kitchen I realized my water had broken.
In retrospect, you child, have always taught me to get rid of expectations. For if you expect that you will have a intervention free birth, your baby will be breech. And if you believe you have the will and the power to move that baby by acupuncture, and by chiropractory, by weird acrobatics, by moxa, or by even by external version, that baby will stay put. And then if you resign yourself to the power of the universe, and schedule the date of that child’s birth – that baby will break your water a full week and a day before his due date.