Now I Know How Zorro’s Mom Must Have Felt

When my oldest was two, her little sister came along.  My second pregnancy wasn’t as pleasant or uneventful as my first, so my doctor took me out of work for the last trimester, telling me to plan on being induced by month’s end if I did not go into labor on my own by then.  After the first induction didn’t work and I was sent home, I was back a few days later for another unsuccessful induction that was finally rectified by a c-section.  That was the first time I was treated with that absolutely horrible concoction they force you to drink before surgery to keep you from having an adverse reaction.  After drinking it, I handed the cup back to the nurse, saying, “Mmm, may I have another?” 

My husband is a big guy and the anesthesiologist took one look at him and, after sizing him up, ordered a wheel chair for him, saying, “If you decide to pass out during your wife’s surgery, I don’t want to be the one to have to pick you up.”  He made the right call as my husband was wheeled out for an orange juice when his eyes began to flutter right after saying, “They’re gutting you like a fish!”  After a successful delivery, my new daughter needed an injection and while I was in recovery, my husband oversaw the event.   I don’t think any of the nursing staff present that day had ever heard a grown man scream louder than the laboring women on the floor, but my husband didn’t understand why there was the need for such a big needle on such a little baby and he became very vocal about his displeasure.  He kept coming back to recovery to keep me informed about how horribly our daughter was being treated, not that I could do anything about it even if I was of a mind to do so, but he needed to vent more than I needed to recover without stress.  Then the chills started.  I can’t describe the terrible feeling of not being able to get warm from the inside out, combined with shaking uncontrollably.  As though I was going through this just to give my husband something else to oversee, he began doing his best Aurora Greenway in Terms Of Endearment when Emma was due her pain medication and before I knew it, there were two nurses lying on top of me with an insulated, metallic blanket and I was warm.  Thank you, Aurora.

Despite the difficulties, my new little girl was totally sweet and beautiful.  She’s still beautiful, but the sweetness is long gone.  I weep for the future.  She’s currently “pen banned”.  This is a term we use to describe her punishment for drawing on things on which she’s not supposed to draw.  She is not allowed to have anything with which to write during this time.  The length of this punishment varies depending on the offense.  Currently, she’s pen-banned through her childbearing years.  She is of a mind to write her initials on everything she feels belongs to her. Her name begins with an “M” and she has put one on just about everything in the house, including toys, books, furniture, clothes, herself, and her baby brother. Everywhere I look, I see her initials and while her sister gave me insight into what Einstein’s mother must have experienced, this child showed me how Zorro’s mother must surely have felt.