A Chili is Born!

1 06 2008

 Today is Punkin’ Pie’s 11th birthday! We had a conversation on Thursday after her band concert ( which was fabulous! And she got up and talked about how cool band is in front of millions of people and she was awesome!) that went something like this;

“Do you remember what happened to me on the day you were born?”

“Yeah Auntie, you were arrested.”

 Well, not quiet that dramatic but that does sound much cooler than what really happened. The story involves an expired registration, a broken tail pipe, cats, chicken sandwiches,  going 15 mph over the speed limit, and a cop with a huge stick up his butt. Oh, and an awesome kid being born!

 Here are the facts of the story;

 I had no intention of driving my car that day. My girlfriends car needed some muffler work that I was going to do. I was going to drive her to work in her car the next day, then go register mine. Sometime in the mid afternoon my pager goes off. The number is that of the Chili’s, I call and get the Mr. who tells me that the Mrs. is going to the hospital to get her blood pressure checked. If memory serves, it had been high and she was on bed rest the previous week. Anyway, he tells me that they may decide to induce her.

 “Should I come now?”

 “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll call you later.”

 So off I go to the parts store to get the stuff for the car. When I return, I tell the girlfriend that I have a funny feeling and feel like I need to go to the hospital. Before I leave I call the Mr. He tells me that they are going to induce her but not to worry because this could take 24 hours. I tell him I am coming now anyway. I didn’t go through those child birth classes for nothing! He asks me to stop at the house and let the cats that are in, out and the ones that are out, in. So I make the 50 minuet drive to the house and call again to see if there is anything else they need.

 “Can you go to Burger King and get me a chicken sandwich?”

 Are you guys picking up on his tone through this whole thing? Nice and relaxed. No pressure. “Auntie, I don’t even think you need to come now” he says. Of course, he was just relaying the info given to him from the medical professionals. 

 The drive thru at the local B.K. has a curb around the whole thing. What that means is once you are in, you gotta stay there. I would also like to note that it is literally two minuets from the Chili’s house. I pull up, I order, I wait my turn. My pager goes off. ” She’s at 9 centimeters! Hurry up!”

 I finally get to the window, throw the lady a ten, tell her to keep the change, grab the food and take off like a shot. The hospital is maybe 15 minuets away and I feel like I have no time to waste. I’m doing 70 over the bridge on the highway when I see Mr. Stick Butt on the side of the road. Of course I get pulled over, I am after all doing 15 over the posted speed limit. Mr. Stick Butt approaches my car and I immediately tell him my sister is having a baby and I have to be at the hospital.

 “What are you a coach or something?”

 “As a matter of fact I am!”

 “Well, you had time to stop for food!”

 “My pager went off when I was in line!” I say as I am trying to show him the pager. If he had bothered to look at it and the time stamp, he would have been able to tell that for most of the short highway trip my speed exceeded 80 mph.

 He takes my license and registration and very slowly walks to his car. I was honestly thinking of taking off but I knew that would have landed my ass in jail. I couldn’t believe he was walking so slow and he took his sweet time writing my ticket too. His return trip to my car was equally as slow. I was fuming!

 “I’m only writing you up for being unregistered.” He says when he comes back. I rip the stuff from his hand and take off before he gets back to his car. Now technically he could have towed me. Also, I am sure he heres lame excuses every day but I had written proof of my need to speed! Mr. Stick Butt followed me all the way to the hospital. In fact, he almost hit me as I was running through the parking lot with the food. Bastid!

 So in I go. As I approach the nurses station I identify myself and the nurse tells me the room number. I pretty much grabbed a leg and tried to be supportive. There was defiantly a sense of urgency but I was not concerned. The doctor seemed to have everything under control and was barking orders to the nurses. I kind of felt like she was, well, bitchy. Who knows, maybe she was pissed that she had to spend her Sunday night at the hospital. Anyway, not much time or pushing passed when the heart monitor beeps started going faster. I remember glancing at it, then the doc a few times. The last look at the doctor gave me pause for concern. She looked me dead in the eye with a “Oh shit!” kind of look but at the same time that same look made me feel like everything was going to be OK. More barking produced an instrument that looked something like this;

 Ok, so that isn’t the actual instrument she used but it was called a vacuum extractor I think. The doctor inserted this thing into my sister, attached it to Punkin’s head and pulled her out. When I say pulled I mean pulled! She had the thingie in her right hand and her left hand was on the table for leverage. She pulled so hard I thought the baby was going to fall on the floor. At the last second, she whipped her left hand around and caught the baby. I am not kidding.

 The baby gets whisked away and the proud papa is right behind her. I stay with the mommy while they do what they do to a woman who has just had a 7 pound human being ripped from her vagina. After a few minuets she asks me to change places with the daddy. So I do that and I am looking at my beautiful niece when the nurses tell me that her heart rate is way to high and there are two options. They could give her medication or sometimes when they put the baby on a family members chest, often  their heart rate will slow down to about the same rate as said family members.

“We like to do that first. Would you like to do that?”

“Are you kidding me! I would love to but that should be the daddies job.”

 The other nurse went off to get him but after not returning right away she told me to sit down and untuck my shirt. Before all of my butt was in the seat she had shoved Punkin’ under my shirt. For the next few minuets I held her and watched the monitor. Punkin’ still had slime on her. I didn’t care, this was by far the most amazing thing I had ever done. Within maybe ten minuets her heart rate was where it was supposed to be. Then the doctor came in. She took one look at the slimy baby leg poking out of my shirt and freaked out on the nurse.

“You need to clean that baby up!”

“You are NOT taking this baby from me right now!” I barked with such authority that I surprised myself. She got my message.

“Would you like a more comfortable chair?” She said with a very soft tone.

“I could be standing on my head right now and I wouldn’t care!”

 There you have it, Punkin’s first day. Today she is a smart, beautiful, willful, funny, and compassionate young lady.

 Happy Birthday Punkin’! I love you!

 

Photo Credit: Plunger

 

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5 responses

1 06 2008
Kizz

I had never heard any of that. What a great birthday story!

2 06 2008
Jules

That is a great birthday story! Hmmm, I feel so boring.

Anyway, the miracle of childbirth, yada, yada, yada … how did you learn to fix cars? I mean, did you hang around with people who fixed cars and learned from them? Did you take a class?

2 06 2008
whodoesshethinksheisanyway

Jules- My dad was a mechanic. That is how I learned most of what I know. These days cars are all computerized and much more difficult for me to work on.

2 06 2008
mrschili

I love hearing this story from another perspective. It’s a little scary how much of this I DON’T remember….

2 06 2008
Laurie B

Hey Auntie, my guess is that this baby takes after you. I love my neice but our story would never be as good. You did the best and most honorable thing. You had probably already had earned your dyke badge but you got your Auntie blessings on that day.

Thanks for breaking the mold and not letting go of the baby. You rock. And until Punkin Pie is eighty she’ll get to tell the story about how her Auntie was arrested the night she was born.

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