Good Crazy

Someday, I will write about the not so fun crazy of last year.  Today, however, I am going to tell a funny crazy story and all of you can once again ponder at Marty's ability to put with me.

When I was pregnant with Andrea, our first baby, she was due January 24, 1984.  That day came and went.  Then on February 3, 1984, they put me in the hospital to induce me because I was getting so big.  They hooked me up early in the morning and I had the pit. drip put in.  They kept upping it because it was doing nothing.  Finally, at about 3:00, they decided to send me home.  WHAT????  Yep, send me home because the drip didn't work.  Nothing was happening.  My doctor told me that if I had contractions over the next day or so, to take some peragoric (yes, he really did) and then take a bath.  If the contractions stopped I was not in labor.  He didn't specify what to do if they did not quit, so you will see what I decided to do.

Marty drove a sobbing and distraught wife home that night.  I shared with him that obviously, I wasn't pregnant anymore.  Where's the baby, he would ask and I would say who knows?  The drip didn't work!  He went to work the next day and I stayed home.  I did have some contractions and so I would take the peragoric, go take a bath and wait.  The contractions didn't stop, so much like shampooing I would rinse and repeat.  Meaning, take some peragoric, get in the tub and wait, and so on and so on.

My mom and Grandma Treseder came to see me at about 4:00 in the afternoon.  Mom timed my contractions and told me that I was indeed in labor.  I looked at her and thought, through a peragoric haze, yeah right - I'm not pregnant.  They left and mom called Marty and told him he better get home because I was in labor.  He called me and I told him I was fine and just stay there at work.

He got home at 9:00 that night and found a very out of it and clean wife.  He timed my contractions and they were about 5 to 7 minutes apart.  He said let's go to the hospital.  I said what for -- I'm not pregnant. Finally, after a phone call with my doctor, he got me in the car and to the hospital at about 11:30 that night.  They checked me in and I was dilated to a 7 and we had our 9 pound 7 ounce girl at 3:30 a.m.  What do you know -- it wasn't a watermelon, it really was a baby.

When Andrea could talk, which was early, when I would call her to come to me she would often say to me "I busy!"  I realize now that is what she was saying on the day they tried to induce me -- "I busy!"