Must have been a Saturday, as I clearly remember being on base (Army) at the PX with Dad and baby Afton, and on the way back to our little place in Herrlingen, Germany, I started feeling a little strange. By the time we unloaded our little old VW, Adam appeared to be in a hurry to make his debut. Dad took Afton downstairs and put her in the care of Herr & Frau (I forget), our congenial landlords, and we were off to the races.
And race we did, there was the train coming down the track in town, and dad drove up on the sidewalk to avoid being stopped by the crossing gate which was coming down to halt traffic. We sped to the little clinic in Neu Ulm, and the Dr. was incredulous that I opted to drive with Dad in the beat up VW, rather than be shepherded in the military ambulance, but I didn't want to give birth without him again, so we got on the Autobahn and sped to Augsburg.
It was evening, and the Chief of OB was at a Halloween party. He didn't take kindly to being interrupted, but he showed up sans costume, except his Dr. one. The nurse, however, was from central casting. Old, grizzled, and in combat boots in the delivery room! Perfect.
The Dr. was further annoyed when I crawled off the table as he began to examine me. "Never mind," he said as he called for anesthesia. "NO!" I pleaded. "I want to have this baby totally naturally."
The Dr. was disgusted with me. "Look," he said, "you're no officer's wife, I don't have to stay here with you. I can just leave." He stood up and started for the door.
"It's important to me," I said. We were not off to a good start. He left me with Colonel Combat Boots, and I was wheeled into L & D (Labor & Delivery Room), inhumanely strapped into stirrups, and again, we were off to the races. Guess he had a change of heart, cause he stayed in his Dr. costume and played the part like it was scripted.
I so wanted to prove I could do this and not deserve any further ire, that we spent the 20 minutes or so until the baby was born telling jokes, and the 5 of us (Dr, Nurses, Dad & Mom) were pretty much hysterically laughing at the time of birth. Because the Dr. for whatever reason wanted to speed things up a bit (was he hoping to get back to the party?), he used forceps to pull on the little head. Not a friendly gesture for any of us. When the baby's shoulders emerged, I did become acutely aware of the process, but just winked at the Dr. and asked, "Do you mind if I say 'Ouch' right about now?" Permission granted, but it felt a little anticlimatic, a bit silly to say it out loud, so it was more of a loud whisper-"ouch".
And then the telling moment. "It's a boy!" I was so surprised, I blurted out, "But how will I take care of a boy??" (I grew up as one of 4 girls, this was a foreign life form to me.) "Change him quicker," said the Doc.
Then I saw the perfect little round face, the huge eyes, the crown of dark hair. And I melted. How could life ever be better than this moment?
Beaming. Dad had a real life son now, our family was complete (or so we thought at the time), perfect.
I became the Dr.'s star patient; he came in the Recovery room and spent nearly half an hour massaging my leg, which wouldn't stop shaking after it was all said and done. Adrenaline, I guess. We became best friends and he would tell our story to the others he brought by on rounds the next couple of days, and brag how it was his funnest birth ever. (The Hospital Pediatrician assured me the scar the forceps had left on his face would be a lifetime mark, but there was nothing that could be done. It disappeared in less than 6 months.)
Adam was Germany's newest little citizen and Dad sent telegrams back to the Grandparents in the States. If happiness can be tangible, it was--in October, 40 years ago!
