Do you have a person in your life that will forever remain a life saver? No matter what is ever said or done, that person will never be removed from that honored place of gratitude. My Aunt Esther was my life saver.
I was expecting a baby, not my first, and not with any reason to assume that the pregnancy wasn’t going to progress normally, and become a special memory with the reality of having a precious baby to hold and love.
What was different, was that Marvin was in the military, and would not be able to be with me at the birth time. My parents generously allowed us to stay with them while Marvin was in training, and promised to deliver us safely to his duty station just as soon as the Dr. gave us the go ahead to travel.
Sometime into the pregnancy, my Aunt Esther ask if I had considered taking a pre-birthing class the hospital provided and having a birthing coach? No, I hadn’t thought about it, so I asked my mom if she had any thoughts about it. Her only thought after having eight children was that she was not going to watch her daughter go through the same ordeal. Hmm. I thought about it some more. It seemed like maybe it should be something we should do. I let my aunt know, that she could be my coach. What could it hurt?
What could it hurt indeed? Aunt Esther took me to the all the classes, and we had a wonderful time together. I thought we made quite the team. She was very attentive to all the instructions. We practiced, and I just knew with all this support it was going to be a piece of cake.
Near the due date, one night after going to bed around midnight, I sprang out of bed with my feet hitting the floor so hard my parents woke up. My water had broke! There was the usual hustle, trying not to wake everyone in the house, making phone calls, having Dad drive me to the hospital, and making sure Aunt Esther would meet us there. I thought my Dad would wait around, but after eight kids, I guess he didn’t see any point in that. I thought it would have only been a couple of hours, but I had a coach, so we got busy.
By two in the morning, my aunt and I were settled into our routines we had practiced for. Things progressed. Well it seemed they did, but daylight peeked in the room, and no baby yet! It couldn’t be much longer now, but still a couple more hours pecked away at my patience level.
Finally, it was time to be moved to the delivery room, and I realized, what a good decision it was to have a coach. We both worked very hard, and after many “this will be the last one” pains, the Dr. pulled up a stool and announced that for every inch I gained, the baby appears to go back two. I despaired! That was it!! I said very crossly that I was done and going home. Then I met the real “Coach Aunt Esther.” She commanded me very sharply, “Pammie, you put that bag over your mouth and do what I tell you.” I was into another pain, and I obviously was not going home. Coach Esther took over, and somehow, a baby boy almost ten pounds with the crabbiest little face I ever saw, came into the world. I don’t think I ever worked as hard, or got coached as thoroughly, as I did those last pains. I often wonder what I would have done by myself. I suppose there would have been a nurse up to the job, but I was always forever glad it was my Aunt Esther.
When it was time to go home, I invited Aunt Esther to come down to the hospital and dress Allen in his going home clothes, and help me with the hospital farewell business and take me home. We had all kinds of grandparent, and sibling company in the meantime, but I wanted her to finish what she started.
Allen was born the day before Mother’s Day. He was the best Mother’s Day gift I ever got, because he was in my arms on Mothers Day, and not the other way around. He never did get very cheerful for a couple of months. Being born had to grow on him.