Two years ago today, I went into the hospital to have a baby. But despite my doctor’s promises that the “birthday will definitely be August 15th,” Ollie was actually not delivered until the early morning hours of the 16th — after a whopping 20+ hours of labor and, finally, a c-section. Not that I was in pain or that it was a horrible labor; it wasn’t. Yet I have to admit, I think our family was bored out of their ever loving minds while they waited with us.
While I was happily drugged with an epidural and lounging in bed watching the Olympics having people hand feed me ice chips, the rest of my family was forced to shift weight from one leg to another and pretend staring at me was extremely fun. They plastered on smiles while I barked orders like, “Deal another round of Asshole and don’t forget I’m the President!” and brought me magazines and hard candy from the gift shop.
I knew then, though it obviously wasn’t the foremost thing on my mind (a dilating cervix tends to distract), that we were very lucky to have all of our family surrounding us as we waited for the baby. With Grey’s whole side and my whole side (plus some of our friends in attendance), it was like a party, not the scary labor filled with bloody towels and cries of agony I had always imagined. I am MOST grateful.