Post #176 – Women’s Memoirs, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
All Things Labor — Memoir Contest – First Place Story, Labor Day Pains Category
Women’s Memoirs is pleased to publish the First Place winner in our September 2011 Memoir Writing Contest, Labor Day Pains Category — Marcia Hackett.
Congratulations Marcia on your award-winning story. Your surprise ending is a real treat.
Want to enter one of our contests? At the bottom of Marcia’s story, you will find details on our new contest. We hope you’ll enter.
We invite you to leave Marcia a note in the Comments section below her story.
A LABOR DAY SURPRISE
By Marcia Hackett
Actually, it was my personal labor day, number three, not the Federal holiday. “Charlie, I’m sure it’s time now, “ I moaned, clutching my swollen belly and sweating heavily. I headed for the car in the garage. “Will you get my bag, and please don’t forget to call Kathy. Tell her I can’t make tennis today.” Two hours earlier we had alerted our obstetrician that we would likely be on our way soon. My water had not yet broken but contractions were coming fast. Dr. Cauvet said he’d be there promptly.
It was Friday, September 11, 1970, a perfect day for tennis, and I would have to miss it. Why couldn’t this child wait until tomorrow? Of course, this being the third one, I hadn’t bothered going through the standard tour of the labor and delivery rooms of the hospital. I knew the routine even though my two girls had been born in different states. It seemed enough to pre-register at Crouse-Irving Hospital, the new facility directly across the street from the old Syracuse Memorial Hospital.
We raced downtown, got out at the Emergency Entrance, and left the car for the parking valet. “Ninth floor,” I groaned, leaning over with knees wobbling and holding on to my husband’s arm. “Ma’am, Labor and Delivery are on the second floor,” the elevator attendant intoned, noticing my condition. That’s funny, I thought, but no time to worry about that now.
The short trip brought us to the registration desk. “I’m sorry, we have no record that you’ve pre-registered with us,” claimed the bored receptionist, noting my dire situation but going on to say, “That’s OK; we’ll get you settled in. Who’s your doctor?”
“Dr. Cauvet. We called him two hours ago. He said he’d be on his way,” my nervous husband responded. “Hurry, my wife is ready to deliver!”
The green-gowned attendant put me in a chair and wheeled me down the empty hall to Delivery. He saw that my contractions were coming fast. It was too late to take me to the Labor Room. Nothing seemed to be ready for me in the Delivery Room; the lights hadn’t even been turned on; no one was there! The kind staffer helped me into a gown and onto the cold table. He sent my husband to the Waiting Room. Fathers were definitely not allowed to view the birth of their children in those days! Nor did we know the baby’s sex ahead of time. After two girls, we hoped for a boy.
“Where is Dr. Cauvet?” I asked. “He said he’d be here.” I wanted my regular doctor who had been with me throughout the pregnancy, not some stranger I didn’t know.
“Don’t worry; he will,” claimed the nurse who hurried in, took hold of my hand, and helped me to breathe between contractions. I was in more and more pain as she went through the usual procedures prior to delivery – taking my temperature and blood pressure, inserting an IV drip, and trying to make me comfortable. I moaned, sweated and writhed on the table, becoming less and less conscious of my surroundings as the contractions came faster and faster.
“Where is the doctor? Is he coming?” I cried several times.
“He’ll be here; hold on,” came the encouraging response.
Less than a half hour later, through all the cries, pain and blood, our child arrived. “You have a son!” I heard Dr. Cauvet say through all the fog in my brain. He had made it to the delivery room after all. Thank heavens!
“A son, how wonderful!” I exclaimed with all my heart.
“We’ll get you and the baby cleaned up, and the dad can come in soon,” said the nurse.
The birth of our first son was such a joyous occasion. I couldn’t wait to share the good news with family and friends. Surprisingly, there was no phone in the room where I was wheeled after cleanup. Nor did I have a roommate. We called the grandparents from the nurses’ station down the hall and were assured they would notify us of in-coming calls. All that Friday afternoon and the next day, too, I waited for the usual congratulatory calls from friends, especially my tennis buddies. None came. The hospital seemed unusually quiet. Our son was the only one in the Nursery. Strange!
Dr. Cauvet came in after lunch on Sunday to discharge me. “Sorry about the mix-up,” he said. What was he talking about? I wondered.
“I thought you were never going to get to the hospital on time,” I accused him. “What took you so long?”
“Oh, I was there, all right. You went to the wrong hospital. Memorial Hospital closed its Childbirth Center several years ago. Luckily, the admissions nurse realized what had happened and paged me at Crouse-Irving. I came over here through the underground tunnel just in time. Don’t worry about it. You have a beautiful son. He’ll get a big laugh from this story when he’s older.”
ALL NEW MEMOIR CONTEST
Women’s Memoirs invites you to send us a 500-1000 word STORY about your favorite recipe PLUS the RECIPE. Is it a nostalgic dish that reminds you of your mother? Is it a romantic recipe that you make for your partner on Valentine’s Day? Is it a self-invented recipe that you love to share with your friends? Whatever your story, whatever your recipe, we’d like to receive them for consideration in a new ebook from Women’s Memoirs.
More people are eating out than ever before. As you can see from the chart on the left, away-from-home food (this includes take out as well as restaurant meals) is almost half of all food consumed.
Let’s give everyone some great food to prepare and eat at home and let’s give them stories they can share while they are starting to create their own special family stories around meals.
Let’s bring back kitchen table wisdom.
Your story and recipe is due July 1, 2012. Just email a .doc file that includes both the story and the recipe to:
matilda (at) womensmemoirs (dot) com.
BE SURE TO PUT IN THE SUBJECT LINE OF THE EMAIL:
Food Memoir and Recipe Contest
(If you use a different subject line, your story might get lost in my email.)
