My Dad always kept a tiny datebook in his left breast pocket. And when I say tiny, I mean tiny. He had neat, precise writing - that, I did not inherit! He held onto these calendars the same way he held on to other stuff...from the rusty coffee cans filled with used nails, to his 40-plus year Playboy collection, Dad was a keeper. We found nearly 60 of those datebooks among the things in his study.
Having long prided myself on being a 'tosser', it was with equal parts excitement and chagrin, I realized that I, too, have saved every calendar since 1989, though back then
my days were pretty simple compared with what would come!
On January 13th, there were 4 reminders.
Dr. Sassoon 1:15. Sassoon was my OB. (He was what might now be referred to as a DRILF. Contact me privately if you need translation. Of course, when you're eight and a half months pregnant, that's kind of a waste.)
Call Bellini to see if bumper is here 212-362-3700. Bellini was one of the few high-end stores I'd ever set foot in. With gender being a mystery, yellow and green were the default colors of the day, and I'd been smitten by a two hundred dollar yellow ducky bumper. I loved that bumper. Ducks have always had a special place in my heart, though I'm not quite sure how that started... maybe it was some prescience of MidChix, or more likely the beak-like qualities often associated with that memorable nose I received from Dad!
Last Day of Work. With just a couple of weeks 'til my due date, I'd decided to err on the side of caution, and give myself a little wiggle room before the baby was due. And good thing, as those two weeks represent the only span of white space on my calendar in the last 22 years.
Stock up on Wine. Being on the wagon for a good part of the past nine months, I was eager to become 'legal' again. Though I'll admit that the one glass per week rule was interpreted in my house, as one tankard.
Waking up on February 1st, I had a feeling that wasn't just my belly digesting the usual 2 a.m. snack of milk and cookies. After a few hours, I hoofed it 23 blocks up 1st Avenue to see my heartthrob of a doctor. My trek must have moved things along, and by early afternoon I'd managed to get checked into the hospital, and settled in a nicely-outfitted "birthing room" boasting a bed with stirrups for me along with both a television and recliner* for Phil.
When Dr. Bob decided to speed things up by breaking my water, Kris gave us our first taste of Plan B. Apparently that round thing that had felt like her head, was actually her bum, and I was whisked off for an emergency c-section. Our oldest entered the world with her own agenda, and as we begin planning her wedding, we're bracing ourselves for whatever Plan B might have in store.
*That was the end of reclining for Phil...for a very long time!
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