My son Michael turned 22 last week. Where does the time go? It doesn’t feel like 22 years ago when I checked into the hospital on Jan. 23, 1995, and suffered in pain all night. I do, however, remember it like it was yesterday.
As most parents can attest, the joys of childbirth aren’t really that enjoyable. There can be some very tense moments. I had moments with both my children. After the second moment, I made the decision to have no more children.
For my son’s birthday, I’ll tell you about our moment. About two to three hours before the blessed event of him entering the world, I was given an epidural. I know some women choose not to have one. When I was asked by my doctor if I wanted one, I said “Who do I look like, Danielle Boone?” I had one with my first born and nothing terrible happened.
Well, the deed was done this time and the pain went away. I told Michael’s dad to go get something to eat. He hadn’t eaten since the evening before. Neither had I, but I had no choice.
He left and I relaxed. I went from relaxing to drifting off. It felt like slowly going to sleep. I could hear the noises from the hospital, the monitors hooked to me and all the other noises getting further and further away. I wasn’t alarmed. I don’t think I had the ability.
Then, off in the distance, I heard a loud noise and frantic moments and voices around me. I could still make out some of what they were saying. I couldn’t open my eyes or react to it though. I started slowly coming back around. The room was filled with nurses, doctors and machines that weren’t there before. They were freaking out. Apparently, they had just been through a very tense situation while I was relaxing.
Michael’s dad came into the room right at that moment. He questioned what happened.
The doctor looked at him and said, “Don’t leave her again. She acts up.”
Upon further questioning, he added, “She had an adverse reaction to the epidural.”
As I came around completely, I began to realize the drifting-off feeling wasn’t me going to sleep after an exhausting night of labor pains. It was my blood pressure dropping to a dangerously low level. That instance was a prelude of things to come. Michael has spent 22 years testing my mental and physical endurance, as well as the rules of gravity. He’s been injured more times than I can count and most of it has been gravity trying to teach him who the boss is. Stop testing gravity and the limits of my blood pressure, son.
Happy birthday, Michael. Here’s to 22 years of you testing me and 22 years of me loving you. I’m sure you feel it’s been 22 years of me testing you and you loving me. Let’s agree to disagree.
Standard reporter Lisa Hobbs can be reached at 473-2191.