My Assumption Baby

It seems my friend Margaret and I have something in common; we both have an Assumption baby. Her oldest and my youngest son, were both born on this beautiful feast day. Now, the question is, did we labor together -- my young man is 12 today, Margaret. How old is yours?

Margaret told of her labor day on her blog yesterday, so I'll tell you of mine today. It was not nearly as humorous as hers, but then she's just that kind of gal.

My labor with Noah started on the afternoon of the Vigil. It was a hot summer afternoon and I was overdue with a large baby. I had found out by accident that he was a boy and we were very happy. He already had a name, and we just needed his little body to be with us to finish the process. When my labor started I didn't get too excited because I had been laboring every day for nearly a week -- the kind that started, then stopped. But, after a few hours, the contractions became stronger and I thought we might be headed for the hospital that evening. I had never had a labor shorter than 18 hours, so I was in no hurry.

My sister-in-law happened to be living in town that summer, because my brother was in Aviano, Italy, for six months with the military. So, she headed over around dinner time to stay with the little boys, and Doug, my mom and I headed to the hospital. I was doing some heavy breathing on the way. My mother was with me because I had invited her, and my mother-in-law, to be with me for the birth of our child. During the previous two births, it was just Doug and I, but I felt that childbirth was so beautiful (you know what I mean) that our mothers should witness it, if they wanted to. So, we met my in-laws at the hospital (Doug's dad stayed in the waiting room) and got settled. I thought things might slow down, but they did not. So they quickly set me up with an epidural, thank goodness, and by midnight I was almost ready. It looked as though it was going to be an Assumption baby.

Around 1 a.m., I was 10 cm dilated and the nurse started throwing chairs around (really, she did) because she didn't think the doctor was going to make it (he almost didn't), and the room wasn't ready. After five pushes, my 8 lb. 10 oz. boy was born with enormous feet and hands, a frown on his face, and bright red fuzz on his head (all of which the doctor commented on).

Later that day, as I was lying in my hospital bed, and my baby was snoozing in the nest I made in the bed with my legs (the beginning of a year in which the child would not rest unless he was touching me), I began to hear the sounds of a Catholic Mass. My room overlooked the hospital atrium and my windows were open enough to hear the sounds of the Assumption Mass beginning in the atrium below. I lay, with my sweet new baby, completely content, listening to the comforting words of the Mass and the beautiful hymns of Mary, and made a wonderful memory, which I will have forever.



Happy Birthday sweet Noah!

.