Eight years ago today...

Eight years ago today I was intending to lead a flannel board Sunday School class presentation of Elijah on Mt. Carmel when my water broke.  Oh my did the waters come gushing-- not unlike the mighty rains in Elijah's day when he hiked up his skirts and ran!  I remember waiting for the pains.  I didn't really have any.  We waited.  We waited.  We went to the hospital: yes, your water's broken.  "I could've told you that!  It's not every day I gush a gallon of water!  I mean maybe my Kegel muscles aren't that strong, but I can usually hold back my 'water' when I need to, but this -- this was like Niagra Falls!"  And it wasn't just once, I kept gushing and leaking as my body kept replenishing.  But no pains.  Hours later, back at the hospital.  Yes, your water's broken.  "Well... shouldn't we put up camp?"  No... just come back when the pains start.  Off Dave and I go to a movie -- a weird one: Spielberg's A-I.  Oh dear, a robot boy who's adopted and then neglected and mistreated.  Ugh.  Too long, too strange, and very depressing and I can't concentrated because besides my leaking bum, the awareness dawns that any minute I shall go into labor and here I am in a nearly empty matinee theatre with my swollen feet up watching a unedited flick.  Surreal. Movie's done.  I gush more clear liquid into the toilet and back to the hospital.  Yes, your water's broken.  Somehow thinking God will spare me the fateful curse, I finally ask the most foolishly optimistic question, "Do you think I could have it without labor pains?!"  My kind, stunned doctor pauses as she tries to collect her thoughts without laughing or shaming me.  Finally she gives me a quiet.  "No."

Ha ha!  What a fool I was, and yet so human.  We will avoid pain whenever we can, but when we can't, the most amazing new life is born.  I remember later (yes, in the throws of labor) feeling sick and almost like I was going to die and I wanted to bail.  I knew that if I could stop the pain I would.  Thankfully, I couldn't.  What was allowed to begin was going to finish and Donovan was going to come out and breath air as an independent soul.

I remember his little swollen red head and sweet whimper as they put him to my chest.  Amazing.