Enter Rachel . . .

The beginning of 1978 was very cold, very very snowy, and unbelievable for me!  I am Rachel's mama, and I started 1978 as big as a house and bewildered that I was still pregnant.  Rachel - being the fourth child - was officially due to arrive around January 15.  Knowing more than the doctors did about what happened when, I predicted a  very early January birth - maybe even by the end of the year!  Did I mention that Rachel's birthday is February 7 . . .

That was the snowiest winter in my memory!  Rachel's Daddy dutifully shoveled tons of snow - moving bushels of the white stuff daily (and nightly).  And still no baby!  What was "it" waiting for?  We had a nice warm home, willing and skilled parents, and anxious siblings.  In short, the perfect scenario!  Hellooooo?  Are you coming to join us?

Every week brought yet another trip to the doctor's office, and yet another pat on the tummy with the words that had failed to remain encouraging:  "Maybe we'll see you in the hospital before your next week's appointment."  Yeah, right!

Finally, by February 5, even the doctors agreed that I was overdue.  (Did I mention that all of my previous children had respected their due dates?  Becki = one day early; Billy = 11 days early; Jason = 2 days late (up until then, the longest two days of my entire life!).  And so they scheduled me to fast after midnight and report to the hospital for tests in the morning.  Being an obedient patient - and one who is scared of doing something stupid that would result in embarrassment - I fasted from after supper that night, about 6:00pm. 

The next morning, We trekked through the mountains of fresh snow to the Washington Hospital.  I was to have an oxytocin challenge test,, which meant that they would actually start my labor, determine that everything was still all right with the wee one, and then send me home!  I say that if you start my labor, you should definitely finish it!  But they disagreed.  Anyway . . .

We reported to the maternity ward only to find it filled to bursting with laboring moms!  There was not a monitor to be had, and so we were sent home with the promise that they would call to let us know as soon as something became available.  On the way home, we stopped at Eat 'n Park so that Daddy could keep up his strength; I, however, was still fasting.  

When we arrived home, I laid down to rest.  No sooner had my head hit the pillow than the phone rang.  We were to go to the hospital immediately, because another laboring mama could appear at any second and take my monitor!  Again we maneuvered through the snowdrifts to the hospital, and this time I snagged my share of the equipment.

The IV drip was started, the monitor leads were attached, and the steady "washing machine" noise began.  About two hours later, amid assurances that all was well with the baby, I was discharged and sent home!  I viewed this as horribly unfair, but no one really cared.  To top things off, I was issued a glass gallon jug - the kind your mother may have bought vinegar in if she was pickling - and told to "capture my urine" for a full 24 hours, beginning at midnight.  Since I'm not equipped with a "spout," and I could hardly reach around my girth to capture much of anything, I guess I decided to show those medical professionals a thing or two.  My labor never really stopped!  It quietly continued in the background as we ate supper that night.  And, to my eternal non-urine-capturing delight, we drove off to the hospital - after yet another bout of snow shoveling - before midnight!

My labor progressed uneventfully, and the nurses were hesitant to awaken my doctor, snoozing nearby.  After a couple of hours they weren't satisfied with my progress, but agreed to humor me by moving me from the labor area into the delivery room (this was pre-birthing-suite days).  As I obediently "skooched" from the rolling gurney to the fixed delivery table, one of the nurses gasped "Oh, Monica!  Look at this!"  I asked what?  What was suddenly so interesting?

With that, Monica ran out of the room, returning momentarily with the sleepy-eyed doctor in tow.  Turns out that my Rachel - now and forever known as "Bubble Baby" - had been born in the unbroken bag of water!  The doctor punctured the bag, handed me my sweet daughter, and collected a handsome fee for his efforts.

Happy Birthday, Rachel!  You were definitely worth the wait!  Love you, Mom