Here's how my day went: Friday, October 19, 2012
The phone rang at 4:21 a.m. As I reached for it I couldn't help but remember the last time it rang at about that time of night (it was 5:11 a.m.). That call was every parent's nightmare. This call was every grandparent's dream.
Molly was on the phone and said she'd been awake for nearly an hour, and she thought she was going into labor. Erin was apprised of this and Plan A was put into action. She got dressed and headed out the door, driving through the darkness to Molly and Brad's house. With Brad's parents 5 hours away, Erin was the designated babysitter for the soon-to-be-big-sister Mary Michael, aged 2 years, 3 months.
After Erin arrived and they had counted contraction durations and their significance (there's an app for that), the Pattersons drove off to the hospital in Atlanta. It was my job to pacify the dogs and cats for a little while before leaving, since we didn't know how long they'd be home alone. (Molly's first labor was an extra-inning affair.)
I waited until about 8:45 a.m. and hit the road. Brad soon texted and said not to hurry, as it appeared it was going slowly and it would be a while before much happened. After a stop along the way I arrived at the hospital room at about 10:15. Molly looked tired, exhausted and (of course) uncomfortable. She looked like she'd been up all night. We visited for a little while, then she tried to lay on her side and rest. No luck. She said she wanted to get up and take a walk.
At that juncture -- it was about 11 a.m. -- I said I was going to go get some coffee. The doula (a birthing assistant) walked me to the door and explained where the Starbucks was located. I asked how quickly Molly was moving along, and she said slowly. She guessed it could be late afternoon, "but you never know." I headed toward coffee and stopped to text and tweet about the late-afternoon timeline.
A Chik-fil-A sandwich later, I arrived at the waiting room in the labor and delivery area at about 11:45. I wrote a few text messages and thought I might see Brad. I thought Molly might have gone to sleep, so I texted him in the room, asking if I could do anything or if he wanted me to bring him lunch. No response. I went to the room and knocked on the door. No response, and I wasn't about to enter without being let in. I went back to the waiting room. After a few minutes I called Molly's phone, thinking that maybe Brad hadn't heard the beep of my earlier text message.
Molly answered her phone.
"Hi, Pop!"
"Molly! How are you? What's going on in there?"
"We've got a baby in here!"
Of course, I was incredulous. Late afternoon? A baby already? What happened? Are you OK? What is it? (They purposely had not wanted to find out; they wanted it to be a surprise.)
"It's a girl! Do you want to know her name? ... (whispering: Brad is it OK to tell him her name?) ... Ok. ... Her name is Sally Weaver Patterson. ... You are the first to know. We haven't spoken to anyone else yet."
I couldn't speak. How special was this day, this time, this moment? I mumbled some sort of congratulatory message, and Molly admitted she was a little busy (baby was born at 11:54 a.m.), so she handed the phone to Brad.
"My God, what happened?"
He said that right after I left they took a little walk around the nurse's station. Four laps, and then her water broke and that baby wanted out -- now! Things moved along unexpectedly quickly, but he said Molly was doing great, the baby was great and he'd be out to the waiting room to get me in a little bit. I asked if I could tell anyone; he said to wait. I said I've got to tell Erin, and he said, "of course."
I called her at 12:03 p.m. I told her what had happened, the name, what I knew about what had happened -- how we thought we had several hours of waiting ahead of us, but not so. She prepared for Plan B -- getting MM dressed and ready to come to Atlanta to meet her new little sister.
Brad's parents had driven in from North Carolina and went to M&B's house, thinking there was plenty of time to get to the hospital. But Brad had called them and gave them the news. So, Erin, MM, Jim and Terry headed north to meet the newest member of the family.
They arrived, and Uncle Dan arrived, at virtually the same time, about 2:30 p.m.. It was a grand reunion. Mary Michael was the first non-parent to hold the little baby. She kissed her on her nose. A little while later when a nurse had to take a little blood from the baby, MM said, "My baby brave." She soon learned how to say Sally. She soon learned it was OK to touch her fingers and toes.
It was all just magic. It was such an incredibly lovely day that started out with such a start (and fright) in the night. Welcome to our world Miss Sally. We are so very glad to know you.
The phone rang at 4:21 a.m. As I reached for it I couldn't help but remember the last time it rang at about that time of night (it was 5:11 a.m.). That call was every parent's nightmare. This call was every grandparent's dream.
Molly was on the phone and said she'd been awake for nearly an hour, and she thought she was going into labor. Erin was apprised of this and Plan A was put into action. She got dressed and headed out the door, driving through the darkness to Molly and Brad's house. With Brad's parents 5 hours away, Erin was the designated babysitter for the soon-to-be-big-sister Mary Michael, aged 2 years, 3 months.
After Erin arrived and they had counted contraction durations and their significance (there's an app for that), the Pattersons drove off to the hospital in Atlanta. It was my job to pacify the dogs and cats for a little while before leaving, since we didn't know how long they'd be home alone. (Molly's first labor was an extra-inning affair.)
I waited until about 8:45 a.m. and hit the road. Brad soon texted and said not to hurry, as it appeared it was going slowly and it would be a while before much happened. After a stop along the way I arrived at the hospital room at about 10:15. Molly looked tired, exhausted and (of course) uncomfortable. She looked like she'd been up all night. We visited for a little while, then she tried to lay on her side and rest. No luck. She said she wanted to get up and take a walk.
At that juncture -- it was about 11 a.m. -- I said I was going to go get some coffee. The doula (a birthing assistant) walked me to the door and explained where the Starbucks was located. I asked how quickly Molly was moving along, and she said slowly. She guessed it could be late afternoon, "but you never know." I headed toward coffee and stopped to text and tweet about the late-afternoon timeline.
A Chik-fil-A sandwich later, I arrived at the waiting room in the labor and delivery area at about 11:45. I wrote a few text messages and thought I might see Brad. I thought Molly might have gone to sleep, so I texted him in the room, asking if I could do anything or if he wanted me to bring him lunch. No response. I went to the room and knocked on the door. No response, and I wasn't about to enter without being let in. I went back to the waiting room. After a few minutes I called Molly's phone, thinking that maybe Brad hadn't heard the beep of my earlier text message.
Molly answered her phone.
"Hi, Pop!"
"Molly! How are you? What's going on in there?"
"We've got a baby in here!"
Of course, I was incredulous. Late afternoon? A baby already? What happened? Are you OK? What is it? (They purposely had not wanted to find out; they wanted it to be a surprise.)
"It's a girl! Do you want to know her name? ... (whispering: Brad is it OK to tell him her name?) ... Ok. ... Her name is Sally Weaver Patterson. ... You are the first to know. We haven't spoken to anyone else yet."
I couldn't speak. How special was this day, this time, this moment? I mumbled some sort of congratulatory message, and Molly admitted she was a little busy (baby was born at 11:54 a.m.), so she handed the phone to Brad.
"My God, what happened?"
He said that right after I left they took a little walk around the nurse's station. Four laps, and then her water broke and that baby wanted out -- now! Things moved along unexpectedly quickly, but he said Molly was doing great, the baby was great and he'd be out to the waiting room to get me in a little bit. I asked if I could tell anyone; he said to wait. I said I've got to tell Erin, and he said, "of course."
I called her at 12:03 p.m. I told her what had happened, the name, what I knew about what had happened -- how we thought we had several hours of waiting ahead of us, but not so. She prepared for Plan B -- getting MM dressed and ready to come to Atlanta to meet her new little sister.
Brad's parents had driven in from North Carolina and went to M&B's house, thinking there was plenty of time to get to the hospital. But Brad had called them and gave them the news. So, Erin, MM, Jim and Terry headed north to meet the newest member of the family.
They arrived, and Uncle Dan arrived, at virtually the same time, about 2:30 p.m.. It was a grand reunion. Mary Michael was the first non-parent to hold the little baby. She kissed her on her nose. A little while later when a nurse had to take a little blood from the baby, MM said, "My baby brave." She soon learned how to say Sally. She soon learned it was OK to touch her fingers and toes.
It was all just magic. It was such an incredibly lovely day that started out with such a start (and fright) in the night. Welcome to our world Miss Sally. We are so very glad to know you.
The Room with a View!
