The last thing we had to do to prepare for the baby was sign on with the neonatologist. By then, I was in labor. I went to class with a sheet of paper in my hand, timing contractions and waiting for them to get regular so I could call the midwife and arrange to go to the hospital. What happened next was straight out of a sit-com.
My last class of the day was a writers' seminar, held in a conference room. The woman in the seat beside me was Pam, a midwife's assistant. She peeked at my paper frequently, palpated my belly, and announced that I'd "be a mommy at around midnight." Across the table was Judy, a mother of five and a returning student. Judy, Pam, and I passed my paper around until the prof asked what was so fascinating about it. "I'm timing contractions," I told him.
All hell broke loose. Judy, Pam, and I assured him that I wasn't likely to just squirt the baby out in class. "I should be so lucky!" I said. The prof insisted that I call the midwife immediately. When I came back into the classroom and resumed my seat he demanded to know why I was still there. "She said there was no hurry, and that I could come in when class was over," I said.
"Class dismissed!" My male classmates were as frantic as the professor. They summoned the nurse, and one volunteered to fetch a wheelchair for me. I insisted that I was fine. Somebody called my husband and insisted that he drive the hundred yards from our on-campus apartment to the classroom building. I was surrounded by solicitous classmates as I made my way down three flights of stairs. My husband fetched me home, I packed my bag, and off to the hospital we went.
Due to fetal distress, I was sent to the labor and delivery suite after all. The semi-private rooms were being painted so I got sent to a lush, private room off the birthing room suite. And my seven and a half pound daughter arrived shortly after midnight, just as Pam had predicted. Lisa and I were spectacularly healthy and went home that evening, less than 24 hours after she was born. And thanks to the coordination of the midwives, the childbirth instructor, and the financial clerk, I was billed for the services I'd reserved, not the more expensive ones that fate had steered me into.
Lisa was everybody's baby. I bled heavily after returning home, so the midwifes told me to stay in bed until the bleeding stopped. My poor husband come down with tonsillitis and was banished to the living room. Judy came by every day after class to tidy the apartment and tuck a casserole in the oven for me. When I was out of bed but still too fragile to go to class, my writers' seminar met in my living room. When I needed extra time to study, the cafeteria ladies would take turns holding Lisa while they ran the cash register. Thanks to my advisor, I was able to schedule classes so that either my husband or myself could be with the baby -- no child care expenses, no separation anxiety, and we graduated on schedule. When I took my diploma from his hand, my advisor caught me up in a huge hug right there on stage.
My husband took the job security of enlisting in the Army. Our little family was launched.
NEXT: Part 6 - The Eye Opener
The Entire Fence Sitter Series:
Laying the Groundwork
Biology of Sex
Curiouser and Curiouser
Under Pressure
Every Little Bit Helps
The Eye Opener
A Learning Odyssey
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