To become a real boy you must prove yourself BRAVE, TRUTHFUL, and UNSELFISH.~from "Pinnocchio"

Twenty-eight years ago today, my "Fly Boy" was born. He didn’t mess around making his grand entrance. Nope, after about 2 hours of labor pains that were an easy 20 minutes apart, they suddenly dropped to excruciating one minute episodes of sheer agony and I knew he meant serious business. On a weekday, at 7:00 in the morning on a Southern California freeway, there was no way we were going to make it to the hospital at which he was supposed to arrive!

While I lay on our waterbed, (well it was 1976) writhing in the throws of labor, his father called the hospital and advised them of our little problem. They suggested it just might be the right time to call the local Fire Department or he could prepare to get some childbirth instructions over the phone. Despite being a Nebraska farm boy, he elected to summon help from the firefighters. Good thinkin’ Daddy!

I didn’t know our community had that many firemen. Obviously there weren’t too many other fire-fighting duties to be done that morning, because every one of them was right there in my bedroom. In a scene just like the old Emergency television show, the firemen discussed my situation with the emergency room at a nearby hospital. I think one of them told my husband to boil some water. Water? I thought that was only on tv.

I sure didn’t like the idea of having that baby at home in my bed, but they kept assuring me all would be fine and the "ambulance is on they way!" Swell.

The guy who kept the closest eye on me was the one with his handy-dandy penlight SPOTLIGHTING the birth canal saying "You know, this is soooo interesting! My wife is going to have a baby soon!" Then he’d call the rest of the guys over for a look and there’d be about 12 heads all bent down around my fanny.

Ugghh. The indignity of it all. Actually, at that point, I’d have sold tickets to the neighbors if they wanted to come watch. I just wanted to have that baby NOW! The firemen preferred that I wait for the ambulance and they "encouraged" me to use my breathing techniques learned in the Lamaze classes until the ambulance arrived.

Lights, siren and more action. Finally the ambulance! "Great" I say to myself, now the baby will be born in the ambulance instead of my bedroom.

What are these people thinking?  I can’t possibly make it to a hospital.

In the ambulance as we head to the nearest hospital, I am instructed to continue my Lamaze breathing and to avoid pushing or risk immediate delivery. The fireman tells me to squeeze his hand with each contraction that causes me to want to expel that impatient child.  He assures me that it will be just a few more minutes to the hospital.

I breathe……I squeeze. It’s now 7:25.

As we pull up to the Emergency Room, I just give up and decide that I don’t care what these people want, this child is being born this very second and they can either help, or get the hell out of the way!

Quickly, they open the ambulance door and wheel me toward the emergency entrance.

I start to push. "The baby’s coming!" I hear one of the nurses say!

"Get her off the gurney and on to bed!" someone yells.

I ask for my husband and I tell them he’s supposed to see the baby’s birth. "After all" I yell, "we took those stupid Lamaze classes!" They tell me he’s putting on some scrubs and he’ll be right in!  He betterrrrrr hurrrrrrry!

7:27….Daddy rushes in his with green scrubs just barely covering his clothes, just as the ER Doctor catches the determined baby and I thank the Lord that it’s over!

Congratulations!

"IT’S A BOY!"

Yes.......A REAL Boy!

Happy, Happy Birthday to my wonderful son! 

Love, Mom