Clara celebrated her third birthday on Wednesday with a chocolate cupcake and a handful of presents.
This will be the last of these reminiscent posts.
Many thanks for the positive feedback. I’m happy that you enjoyed reading them as much as I did.
During labor and attempted delivery, many people were in and out of our room. Nurses and doctors surrounded the bed, constantly introducing themselves and stating their positions.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Smith, the attending on tonight.”
“Hello, I’m Doctor Jones. I’ll be administering your epidural.”
“I’m Doctor Andrews. I’m here to turn down your epidural.”
“I’m Doc Simpson. I’m here to look at your vagina.”
Most remarkable, your mom seemed to keep track of all these people amidst all the contractions and pushing. At one point a doctor introduced herself to us, consulted with another doctor, checked in with a couple nurses, and then turned to leave, just as your mother began pushing again. But before she did, she took a moment to look up and say goodbye to the doctor, addressing her by her name.
Katherine, our nurse, turned to me and said, “How can she possibly remember all these people’s names?”
They were all doctors, so perhaps it was a Jewish thing.
A few minutes later, Katherine asked a nurse to arrange for Petey to come down to our room. Considering every other person in the room had been either a doctor or a woman, the thought of some guy named Pete who went by his first name coming to the room alarmed your mother.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Whose Petey?”
“Not Petey, a person,” Katherine explained. “Pediatrics. They’ll need to be here at the delivery.”
Half naked, contracting and pushing, your mother was still on the top of her game.