Tuesday, February 05, 2008

This is crazy!

When Jennifer and Luis asked me to come to the Dominican Republic for the birth of their first child, I was thrilled. But, as the time draws close, I have to say I'm scared. I'm not afraid of being at the hospital, or seeing blood, or hearing Jenn scream at Louis.

Nah, I can handle that stuff.

But, when Jenn told me the hospital they chose is in the capital, 2 hours away, I freaked a bit. Then, she explained that our friend Joy would drive her to the hospital. Okay, Joy lives in Santiago, which is 1/2 hour from La Vega, where Jenn lives. So, we are talking 2.5 hours MINIMUM from phone call to hospital arrival.

Yes, this is Jenn's first baby, so labor should should take awhile, right?

I hope so. The other challenge is Carnaval. Jenn was awakened to that fact last weekend when a parade announcing Carnaval drummed under her window at SIX am.

This is my mental picture. Jenn's water breaks on a Sunday morning. We call Joy. Joy makes it to La Vega in record time. We pile into the car and start the trip to Santo Domingo. Then, we are waylaid by a hoard of demons in the street. Jenn tells us the baby is coming. Joy honks the horn and moves through the demons. Then, Jenn screams that the baby is coming NOW! We have to pull over.

I'm going to stop now, because this is as far as I've let my imagination go. Remember, I have three kids, all of whom I gave birth to with wallet pangs, not labor pains!

Can anyone recommend a book on how to deliver a baby in a car during a parade of drunk demons whose job it is to run around and beat people with sand filled cow bladders? I want to have that with me when I leave here Thursday.

Imagine if this was the first thing you saw when you arrived?

5 comments:

nosmallfeat said...

You just made me laugh so hard I think I have a six pack belly right now...

Anonymous said...

Me reí tanto que un pedo voló cruelmente por la ventana.

Heidi Mehltretter said...

Too funny, that is one way to call attention to my blog!

EdistoCam said...

Birth has always mystified me. With succeeding phases of my life I’ve realized different perspectives on the realities of conception, birth and babies. One of these transitions occurred with a significantly poignant impact about 32 years ago. I was young, single, and sexually active - and I had a typically male cavalier attitude about my responsibilities toward birth control. That is until I shot several natural and cesarean births in Los Angeles County Hospital (I’m a cinematographer) on an assignment for a major pharmaceutical company in 1976. The experience dramatically changed my perspective on birth, women, love, lovemaking, and the need for me to assume more responsibility. I was ashamed of myself for taking things way too lightly for way too long. From that point on I assumed my share of responsibility when it came to birth control, emotionally, intellectually and materially – you guessed it – have condoms, will travel.

This was pre-aids. The 60’s and 70’s forged a new devil-may-care attitude about sex in America, but unfortunately and unfairly, women bore the brunt of responsibility for birth control. If their method of choice didn’t hold up for whatever reason – well, it was their problem, unless they were lucky enough to be involved in a committed relationship. But that didn’t always work either. In the early 80’s I had a friend who was living with her gentleman. She came home one evening from her doctor and said she was pregnant. The fellow simply got up from the couch, walked out of the apartment without saying a word and she never heard from him again. Some commitment! And the lad was from a prominent and privileged American family – though he shall remain forever anonymous.

I married late – at 37, and I married a widow with two daughters. I adopted the girls and now, nearly 30 years later, have 3 exquisite granddaughters. I reflect on my experiences as a young, single, predatory male – and SHUDDER. The grands are 10 (twins) and 11, right at the brink of their own sexual revelations. Fortunately their mothers are realistic, down-to-earth and experienced women in their 30’s - 33 and 37 - so I’m reasonably confident that the requisite instructions and admonitions will be forthcoming, though probably not without some challenge. The bottom line, however, remains rather simple and three-fold: Respect – Responsible – Reliable.
Share the experience of love in ALL of its wonderful aspects.

Changed Man (Frost)

Heidi Mehltretter said...

Beautiful and thought provoking post, Frost. Thanks.