Stardate: September 20, 2012. Time 6:45 a.m.
Mission: To successfully deploy the already fueled and packed F150 pick-up from the launch pad in Medicine Lodge, KS and arrive in under four hours in Topeka, KS for the arrival of most hallowed first grandchild.
Procedure: Robin, mother-in-waiting, would call when word came that she was being officially induced. It was possible, if every other baby in the area decided to emerge that day, she would be bumped. Due to a little forgotten piece of info the night before, the doctor could tell she was well on her way naturally. No need to fire up the contraction jet fuel in the morning. Had we known, we would have gone on to Emporia that night, giving us a quick skip of 45 minutes the hospital.
My foot tapped and my fingers drummed, while I listened on my side of our closed bathroom door.
Zing! Ting! Crash!
I fumed as my husband’s favorite phone app, Angry Birds, flew through the air and crashed at this life historic moment. I almost broke my teeth off being patiently submissive.
Finally, we were strapped in and hit the road—straight to the town’s convenience store!
What??? The point of being ready to go, was we would be READY TO GO!!!
This spot is the town’s social hub in the morning. “Hey, heard about your dad breaking his neck. How’s he doing?’, and ‘So, where are you off to?’
Anyone who knows me understands that I love to turbo-boost into a conversation topics like this, but today was one of the few in my life’s history, where I wanted to scream and bulldoze over them.
But, I didn’t.
Finally, on the road, a discussion on which route to the room-a-zoom-zoom Turnpike would be best. Straight to Wellington would laser Cliff’s eyes out with the rising sun. But, wasn’t there construction to Haysvillle? Wichita meant lumbering through traffic. We finally darted onto the 235 Bypass, we rarely use around Wichita, until…
….we got to a tricky forked exchange where you have to instantly choose which vein of traffic to join. Captain Cliff chose wrong, and Spock had her mind flipping through her mental baby book under ‘water breaking’ since that was the lastest pressure filled text update.
And, we were looping southeast instead of north! Deep breathing helped to subside the panic, but every stinking semi in the galaxy pooped along in our lane. Did they not have deadlines to meet? For the love of asphalt, put the hammer down and go!
A text to Misty in Emporia warned that she had best be ready to execute a Duke’s of Hazard dive through the truck window as we drove by. Her spine infused back was no excuse, and she’d need have a sack of Sonic greasy goodness in her grubby little hand. She did.
And of course, Emporia picks that day to do massive construction on the deadly roundabout which is like the Bermuda Triangle for semi-trucks. Navigating it was as aggravating as a Rubiks cube, but we eventually broke some laws and jumped a curb or two onto the Turnpike.
Of course, we aren’t that familiar with Topeka. Cliff’s GPS, still harboring a grudge that she wasn’t consulted on the bypass debacle, gave us the silent treatment, and I couldn’t read my hand-written Map Quest directions.
In the parking garage, a disagreement had to pop up about which elevator to take.
But we made it!!!! Whew! Bring on the bambino!
We visited with Robin and Karsten, learning that pidurals are truly God’s grace after the whole Eve incident. When they came to check the process, a ‘pushing’ announcement was made.
We rejoiced down the hall to the waiting room, giddy with expectation. Watching people filter through……for 1 hour, 2 hours…..
A student nurse, that had attended Robin, cut through the waiting room to the elevator, her shift over. She made eye contact, looked to the floor, and skittered to the steel doors.
“Get her! She has information!” I joked—kind of.
She nervously smiled, pondered the desperate looks on our faces, proudly looked up, and said, “Congratulations.” Then, closed her little yap. Firmly.
Cliff said, “All we want to know is if everyone is healthy.” She nodded and dashed through the open doors to be whisked away before the HIPA police tackled her.
Whew! The big question mark had been erased. It shouldn’t be long. Of course, it takes time to get everyone settled, cleaned up, and they were probably Skyping with the California set of grandparents, since they were so far away.
A review started on who made what baby predictions in our family pool. Everyone was intent it was a boy, except me, who is always dead wrong.
Another hour ticked by. Maybe something was wrong after all? What did the nurse know? She was a only student. Maybe we assumed her nod to mean, ‘yes they were fine’, when she might have just nodded out of nervousness. Misty finally hopped up and sweetly interogated the nurses’ at the desk.
Someone would be out soon. Thank the Lord!
Karsten peeped around the swinging door, looking like an excited ghost, a proud daddy smile engraved on his face.
“I can’t tell you what it is. Robin wants to once they let you come back. It shouldn’t be long.”
Oh good night! We have had enough of indefinite turbulence for a life time—starting nine months ago when we got the news that Bugaboo was on the way (Check out blogpost Bugaboo Hope) up to the last ten days, waiting to know if my dad would survive his bronc riding episode, or if he would be paralyzed for life. (A Lifetime of Bodily Discontent blogpost). We are exhausted! No wonder Grandmas need naps.
Then, the big moment comes. Bren Carter Burns gets officially introduced to the most impatient people in the universe—one branch of his zealous family tree. Of course, he is an absolute miracle. And so is his mama, who we learned God’s hand was on. In fact, she had a scary time. One we are glad the experts took as much time as possible to handle. And it was also on the new daddy, whose first time holding his son, was torn between the hope in his arms and watching his wife’s dire circumstance unfold in a flurry of blue gowned activity.
So, when the uncle, who has to wait until after his game tonight, gets to put his 8lb nephew in a football hold, it will be all the sweeter. And, when Grandma Lisa swoops in from California on Tuesday, she will have earned a sparkling patience jewel in her crown. Then, in November, Uncle Kaj will have his not-nearly long enough turn. And at Christmas, there will be great celebration in Los Angeles, when a grandpa and two nieces will have sculpted the patience fruit into an intricate creation to share with Mr. Bren. Finally!
(I’d put in a picture, but been having a time loading pictures on WordPress lately. Also, I don’t have my favorite bible with me, so I can’t find the verse I was going to use. Grrr…..wait….do you suppose He’s already having to mold and shape me on the patience thing? AGAIN!)