Welcome, Little Peter!!Yesterday the phone rang somewhere around 9:00 a.m.
I checked the caller ID, grabbed the phone, and shrieked
(just a little), “Are you having a baby?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m in labor” came back my sister’s
matter-of-fact voice.
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“They’ve been about 5 minutes apart for the last two
hours. I started having contractions
yesterday evening, but they went away late in the night. And then, started when I got up again.”
Completely ignoring the end of the statement, I definitely
started shrieking, “Five minutes apart???
Why are you calling me? Mom can
call me!! Go to the hospital.”
“Well, I’m going to eat breakfast and call a few more
people. Then, I figure we’ll go,” she
answered back almost lazily. “They aren’t
very painful.”
“Eat breakfast???? You’re
not supposed to eat when you’re in labor!”
“Do you really believe all that?”
“Oh," momentarily sidetracked. "Well, I don’t
know. But I got nauseous with Andy, so I
don’t think I’d have wanted to have a full stomach. Maybe just toast.”
And so, we continued talking excitedly about having babies,
and before we hung up, I told her to tell Mom to call me when she went to the
hospital.
***
At 1:30, I still
hadn’t heard anything, so I called Mom and got Dad.
“So, are you at Lucia’s yet?”
“Um, no, we had a bit of a late start because we had to drop
some CDs for church off at ___’s house, and we needed to stop the mail and we
had to pack and everything.”
“So, has she gone to the hospital?”
“Well, we haven’t actually called to check.”(!) Maybe we aren’t the most communicative family
alive, or maybe this is how my sister acquired her mellow attitude toward life. So, I called Lucia, and she was still having
contractions about 3 minutes apart when she stood up, but slowing down to 8
minutes about when she was resting, so she was going to take a nap.
So, I took a couple of breaks during promising lulls from
the seven children running around creating havoc (early dismissal at school) to
call my parents and Lucia to see if she was considering homebirth or did she
think she might just go to the hospital.
(There was lots of shrieking and gesticulating from my end, and
even-keeled responses from the other end.
We’re mostly a phlegmatic, unexcitable family.)
Lucia said she thought she’d wait until my parents
arrived. Then, she and Jerry exited
quickly, arrived at the hospital at 6:55
and gave birth to her little boy at 8:12 p.m.
(naturally, of course, because they couldn’t get that epidural in quick enough).
Her version of the story is much more exciting, but I’ll let her
tell it. Crazy. I don’t think I could have stood waiting it
out so long. What do I mean “don’t think”? There’s no way! I pretty much couldn’t stand Lucia
waiting! If I could have figured out how
to get someone else to watch my seven young charges, I’d have gone and sent her
to the hospital, but I couldn’t persuade Dave that his work was really the unimportant,
piddly stuff I’m sure it was. Still,
there are advantages, I suppose, to having to walk and talk and fill out papers during your most
intense contractions. And Lucia speaks
glowingly of this whole labor experience, so I’m glad it all worked out so
superbly. I was certainly praying—and that
seems to have significantly better results than shrieking and gesticulating.
Lucia and little Peter Sur-Yuan are doing well. (That Chinese middle name probably isn’t
spelled correctly). He was 8 lbs. 4 oz.,
and I’m sure he’s beautiful.
And wasn’t it thoughtful of him to arrive on my mom’s 60th
birthday? Happy birthday, Mom!! | 
