Years ago I did a series of stories about when I grew up. I made this entry on the "When I Was A Kid" day even though it was not from that era. From six years ago:
9/30/2016
WHEN I WAS A KID
When I was a kid, well, this week, that is a stretch. I wasn't a kid. It was 42 years ago today! I was 29 years old. I spent one of the most grueling days I can ever remember. I spent the day in a small hospital room. I was not a patient, but an expectant father.
In those days, 1974, fathers could join their wives in the labor room with the doctor's permission but not the delivery room (those were two different places. They treated the delivery room like a surgical room). Your time in the labor room was even limited. Most of the waiting took place in the room set aside for expectant fathers affectionately called the "fathers waiting room". They didn't even have a TV in the waiting room in those days.
This was my fourth child, so I was no beginner even though I was not present for the first. I tried to look the part to a half dozen other waiting room denizens who came and went that Monday. Well, I tried for a while.
We had arrived at the little hospital on the hill overlooking Mariemont just before noon at the direction of the doctor. As usual, we didn't know what sex our baby was. By my past experience, I thought I would be home in tune to have dinner with my three daughters. Not so much.
The day dragged on and on. I made a visit or two to the labor room but mostly I waited without knowing what was going on. A million thoughts went through my head. By late in the evening, I was sure something had gone wrong. My nurse contact tried to assure me but I was sure there was something wrong.
It turned out that the child in my wife's womb was big and stubborn. It refused to get itself headed in the right direction. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight and turned to October 1st before I got news that, at the last minute, the child found it's way.
The fathers waiting room was located just outside a set of double swinging doors leading to the labor and delivery rooms. The nurse came to the room and summoned me with a relieved look on her face. I busted through the doors and they were wheeling my wife with baby down the hall toward the doors. Weakly, my wife said, "It's a boy." I kissed the delivery nurse and hugged the beaming doctor who seemed as glad as me. The delivery time was noted as just before midnight.
I was asked to leave, if you can believe it. The post delivery rooms were no place for fathers.
An amazing day. Happy birthday, Andy.
o) o)
In those days, 1974, fathers could join their wives in the labor room with the doctor's permission but not the delivery room (those were two different places. They treated the delivery room like a surgical room). Your time in the labor room was even limited. Most of the waiting took place in the room set aside for expectant fathers affectionately called the "fathers waiting room". They didn't even have a TV in the waiting room in those days.
This was my fourth child, so I was no beginner even though I was not present for the first. I tried to look the part to a half dozen other waiting room denizens who came and went that Monday. Well, I tried for a while.
We had arrived at the little hospital on the hill overlooking Mariemont just before noon at the direction of the doctor. As usual, we didn't know what sex our baby was. By my past experience, I thought I would be home in tune to have dinner with my three daughters. Not so much.
The day dragged on and on. I made a visit or two to the labor room but mostly I waited without knowing what was going on. A million thoughts went through my head. By late in the evening, I was sure something had gone wrong. My nurse contact tried to assure me but I was sure there was something wrong.
It turned out that the child in my wife's womb was big and stubborn. It refused to get itself headed in the right direction. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight and turned to October 1st before I got news that, at the last minute, the child found it's way.
The fathers waiting room was located just outside a set of double swinging doors leading to the labor and delivery rooms. The nurse came to the room and summoned me with a relieved look on her face. I busted through the doors and they were wheeling my wife with baby down the hall toward the doors. Weakly, my wife said, "It's a boy." I kissed the delivery nurse and hugged the beaming doctor who seemed as glad as me. The delivery time was noted as just before midnight.
I was asked to leave, if you can believe it. The post delivery rooms were no place for fathers.
An amazing day. Happy birthday, Andy.
o) o)
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