Photo Gallery
Memory Book
New Page 1

December 13, 1986


Friday, December 12 - Only 1 more week to go, but I can’t take any more of this. I can’t stand, sit, or even lie down. Houses can’t do any of those things. Maybe the OB/GYN will tell me something good at today’s appointment like “What are you doing here? This baby is about to come out!”


Feet in stirrups, but scooted all the way forward and OUCH! Doctor says that I should stay close to home and that she may be seeing me later or could still be next week…but she doesn’t think so.


After a really great dinner at our favorite Romanian restaurant with my parents and Uri’s, we sit down to watch some TV at our 2-bedroom, 1 bath apartment. I have to admit that I’m totally bummed about spending 1 more night very pregnant. As I sit down to pee for the tenth time in the past 2 hours, I am suddenly hit by typhoon baby, and the water flows. I calmly grab a washcloth and walk out of the bathroom with the cloth between my legs. Still calm, I tell Uri that it’s time to go & the bonehead thinks that I’m talking about bedtime. Henya takes 1 look at me and just knows. Now he gets it!


The contractions started in very fast and hard right away…lucky me! Uri and I make it to the hospital at around midnight (in 1 piece, car intact) and my mom is in route. The brilliant doctor on call brilliantly deduces that I am indeed in labor and going to have a baby in the next 24 hours. I am so not in the mood for their small talk, this really hurts!! They cannot understand why I am insisting on an enema. Duh, big meal has to come out at some point. Not while I’m pushing though. Have I mentioned yet how much this hurts and how scared I am?
 


Saturday, December 13 – Well now that I’m on my second dose of Demerol, I decided that I don’t particularly like the drug. I am so out of it. Instead of lessening my discomfort, it only adds to my agitation as I feel like I’m totally NOT in control. Anybody who knows me can tell you that I don’t like feeling that way. What should I expect anyway when my contractions are 60 seconds long & coming every 2-2.5 minutes? My mom tells me how well I’m doing while Uri sleeps in the recliner beside my bed. Goody, goody for him! I am getting NO sleep.


Every so often someone comes into my room to shove what feels like an open fist up inside of me. I only wish that the little “girl” inside of me had some sharp teeth and well you get where I’m going with this. “You’re dilating beautifully” they kept chanting. Blah, blah, blah was all I heard.


Sometime around 10:00AM everyone decided that I was now ready to push. No one was asking me mind you, but by now I had lost my ability to put 2 thoughts together in a way that would make any sense to anyone. So they lowered the end of the bed, put a metal bar across it and lifted me up every time I had a contraction so that I could squat and push. One thing is certain: this baby has 1 big head.


So we did this for 3, three, tres, shalosh hours. I was not having a good time and I was sure that my little “girl” wasn’t either. Oh, have I mentioned yet that I strongly believe that “Lamaze” is a complete WASTE OF TIME?! This is so weird. On this side of the thin curtain, there are people cheering me on like I am a soccer game. On the other side are my dad and my 2 in-laws listening on and wanting to peek in. I think that I actually threatened to leave if they dared.


All of a sudden the energy in the room changed. The hairy baby was crowning ( I only know this because my dear husband was looking straight at my swollen, red privacy and giving me play by play action ). This is now more pain than I can possibly bear. Right? Epidurals were reserved exclusively for either C-sections or those women that were smart enough to scream for it. Just a couple more pushes. A quick and rather large episiotomy (“we wouldn’t want to tear now would we dear?”), and out comes….What did Uri just say? I thought that in my drug-induced state I heard him say “Beitzim?” That is just not possible. The ultrasound didn’t show anything and that usually means a girl…a Clair. But it’s a Yonie instead. A Jonah. My Yonie. Okay, I have to admit that this turns a little scary and freaky right about now. First of all, I don’t hear my baby screaming or even whimpering. Second, I see not one but three babies. Third, those babies are not only blue, but possessing a rather impressive yet worrisome cone head. Finally I hear those long awaited squeals and I know that my Yonie is fine.


It didn’t take long for me to fall totally and madly in love with my son. He had a healthy appetite and was definitely a boob man from the start. We spent the next 2 days in the hospital getting to know one another and getting ready for a lifetime together. I knew right then that this was what life is all about, and thanked G-D for the miracle that I was holding tight in my arms. I love you so, so much!

Happy birthday to us my angel from heaven!