Today, Bobo is Three!

Miss Bobo, aged three, relaxing with Lilith. Mesmerized by "The Wonderpets."

Emma Elaine Lacey

aka "Bobo"

February 27, 2004

Today, my baby girl is three years old. Where does the time go?

The obligatory birth story of Bobo begins on February 26th, 2004 at 9 p.m. It was a Thursday evening and DH and I were watching TV in bed. The Bug had been in bed for an hour, and Will and Grace was on early that night. At 9, The Apprentice came on and DH asked me if I was watching it. I said, "No, I'm just laying here trying to decide if my water broke."

I was dampish. I went downstairs to check. I was leaking something alright, but no big gush like you see in the movies. So I called the on-call Doctor and he said to head up to the hospital. If it was broken, they'd keep me. If not, I'd come home. So we grabbed a few things, dropped a drowsy Bug off next door with Sister and went to LRGH, third floor.

My water had indeed broken. They hooked me up to a monitor and admitted me. I'd not had so much as a single contraction, or anything resembling a contraction. My mom came up, fresh from a local watering hole, as did my cousin Carla who helped me bring Bug into the world. We sat. We talked. Nothing contracted.

The nice nurse and I went for a walk. All night long, we walked the floor, around and around. Not a twitch. Not a pinch. Not a cramp. Ma went home, said she'd be back in the morning. Carla went home said she'd be back in the morning. DH wished fervently he'd be back in the morning, but he hunkered down in the Marquis de Sade armchair and waited.

I finally lay down to get some sleep, knowing that with no water left and no contractions that I had a pitocin drip in my near future. Which I'd had with Bug and I told the nurse in no uncertain terms that I was going to have an epidural and make whatever calls were necessary to procure me one.

At 9:00 Friday morning, the good doctor came in and said it was time to induce. I was a good three centimeters dilated and we were good to go. They hooked me up and we were off to the races. I had a big iced coffee and nice nurse snuck me some toast. Thus fortified I was ready to rock.

I got a couple hours into it when I decided, "Owee, this hurts. Medicine please." They summoned the worlds oldest and worst anesthesiologist they could locate. He stuck me at least twice, all while I'm curved over in a U trying not to move or scream. The third time he said he got it and promptly taped me and left. I got an exam, while I was already uncomfortable. It was something like 8 cm and fully effaced. Great. And I was feeling every minute of it.

I distinctly remember asking--nay whining--over and over, "When is it going to work?" My mother, who hates seeing me in pain, replied over and over as reassuringly as she could with a note of panic in her voice "Soon. Soon. Any minute."

Carla, in the meantime, had a perm and a color to do at her shop, and rushed up as soon as she was finished, figuring she'd have time. But she said she hurried because she had a feeling she should be at the hospital. And she got there right as I was starting to push.

Anyway, any minute never came. I got numb in the feet area, but that was it. And dr came back in and told me it was time to push. Okey dokey, then. I was in no position to argue. And I pushed. At one point her big old head was stuck under my pubic bone, so nice nurse pushed down as hard as she could while dr grabbed her head and started reefing. (My mother was on the other side of the room saying "Oh, my God, he's going to rip that kid's head off. He didn't. ) It was very uncomfortable, but she popped free and slithered out. Aunt Carla cut the cord, a privilege ceded to her by DH who gets queasy about such things.

I was very happy to see her. I had Nubain with Bug and was very whacked out for her arrival. I was hyperconscious of this birth. They plopped her on me and I loved her. While I held her, dr. stitched me up. A small tear and five stitches he said. They hurt like the very devil for weeks after. In contrast to the many, many stitches I had with the Bug's episiotomy that I never felt. Weird.

When they finally took her to weigh her--the whole thing was very relaxed and unhurried--they told me to take a guess at what she weighed. I said, I dunno, 'bout the same as Bug. 8 lbs, maybe a bit more.

9 lbs, 2 oz.

Dr. said that they had so much trouble popping her out because her arm came out with her head at the same time.

It still hurts when it rains.

Happy Birthday, my baby, my little love.