On This Day
On July 16th, 2024 my daughter Amanda turned thirty-four. Also, on that date, July 16th, 1969, Apollo 11 was launched right before NASA faked the moon landing four days later on July 20th (kidding). The two have nothing to do with each other, just a fun fact.
Initially, Amanda’s due date was July 7th (7/7) which ironically is her mom’s favorite number (7). Every day after the due date is filled with anticipation because we could be off to the hospital at any moment.
On Saturday, July 15th (not knowing yet what would happen on the 16th), I brought home all the fixin’s for ice cream sundaes (a decision I would regret later). Afterward, to fill the time before the eventual birth, we decided to go to the movies.
We bought tickets to see the Warren Beatty movie Dick Tracy. Dick Tracy is either an awful movie, or a movie so far ahead of its time, time hasn’t caught up with it yet.
Either way, five minutes into the movie, Arlene grabbed my arm in a death grip and grunted, “We gotta’ go” and off to the hospital we went.
Don’t remember all the logistics of how we got there, but around ten o’clock that night, Arlene settled in her room. Now, it was just a matter of time.
And what a time it was.
So many sounds filled those hallways, the grunts, the groans, the curses (and that was just from Arlene).
Suddenly, Arlene reached out and asked for the garbage can, which I grabbed.
Remember those sundaes we ate earlier? They made a return engagement.
Fortunately for me (and the sheets), I got the garbage can to Arlene in time.
A few minutes later, a nurse came in and put an epidural in place to help manage the pain. That helped, for a while at least. Sometime between contractions, Arlene started to feel more and more uncomfortable. Then more and more pain.
We called for a nurse, and when she checked she realized the epidural needle had slipped out.
The nurse examined Arlene, and then told us she was too far along and could not put the needle back in place.
From this point on, until delivery, Arlene was on her own (drug-wise, at least).
It was a long night, not for me, but for Arlene. Through the night, going for a natural birth, was unexpected, and difficult.
For hours, Arlene went through contractions, but still not able to deliver the baby. We did not know the gender before birth so, for the moment, the baby was a baby with no name.
Hours passed with no delivery in sight, and with that, Arlene had a few choice words during this time.
By morning she shouted, “Get this thing out of me!”
Well, maybe not those exact words, but you get the idea.
By nine o’clock that morning, the doctor decided that Arlene would need to have a C-section, and they wheeled her away. I was left behind in the hospital room.
As I waited, I was surprised to see a friend from high school walk by. Cheryl was a nurse, and after a quick exchange, I explained why I was there.
“Follow me,” she said and led me down the hall.
She handed me a set of scrubs (which I still have today), and directed me to the room where Arlene was.
I slipped on the scrubs, and stepped inside the room. Arlene was on a table, all I could see was the top of her head. A large white screen separated me from what was as going on with the C-section (thank you, God, thank you).
I didn’t know what they were doing to Arlene, but whatever is was, the table shook (a lot).
After some time, I heard the distinct cry of our baby girl.
Someone called me over, still could not see everything, and was handed a device to cut the umbilical cord.
After that, it was a blur in the days that followed. Arlene’s hospital room soon filled with balloons and flowers from family and friends.
Our new baby’s name?
Amanda Rose.
I thought it was a pretty unique name until I saw two separate groups of balloons and flowers being delivered to different rooms with that name on them.
So, thirty-four years later, once again, Happy Birthday, Amanda.
Oh, and by the way, you still owe me ten dollars for those Dick Tracy movie tickets.
