The Daisy Day

The notion of childbirth used to be one of supreme vagueness. Only the active participant, and the medical staff, could truly confirm that childbirth didn't involve storks, massive cabbage plants or tightly woven baskets floating in the river. Twenty years ago, enough progress had been made that Big Guy joined me for labor and Daisy's arrival. And that, pretty much, defines much of what I remember about the day. To clarify: Mostly, it was My Day. My Day to watch as Big Guy tried to snooze in the labor and delivery room's recliner. He didn't get the comfort of a bed nor the relief of an epidural--which yes, while getting an epidural bends the spine and racks the nerves, having an epidural makes everything easier to manage. For example, Daytime T.V. While I snoozed through Phil Donohue's talk show and mind-wandered my way through Sally Jessy Raphael's insipid program, Big Guy had no drugs and very little sleep to blunt their yammering over the airways. I could have turned off the t.v., but with my epidural, I didn't feel like bothering. And, admittedly, as talk shows morphed into soap operas, it gave Big Guy something to complain about until early evening. Then his complaints, and mine, shifted to the Braves. They played in the World Series, Game 6 in Minneapolis, on this night twenty years ago. It was painful...not childbirth painful, just painful. Again, I had the bed and comfy epidural. Big Guy had the sturdy vinyl recliner and no pain meds. He also had to get up each time he wanted to go to the bathroom. Not me, a tiny perk in retrospect. As 10 p.m. closed in, Big Guy looked ragged around the edges. I, with my epidural, didn't care how I looked. But I did want that baby out of me. Suddenly, nurses walked in. Bright lights flashed on. And the Daisy Delivery Doctor walked in. He said he'd come from a party, but I knew the crisp white long-sleeved shirt and silk necktie were worn especially for Daisy. With one push and then another, Daisy arrived--wet and unhappy. Probably more unhappy than the Braves. And in that moment as Big Guy cut the cord, his day, and my day, turned into Daisy's Day. Happy Birthday Daisy.