I SHOULD BE ON THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL
Saturday, August 04, 2012
I shouldn’t be writing this now. I should be on my way to the hospital. But, alas, I have my priorities. For me, it’s important to tell people’s stories, maybe with a different slant than one might have otherwise seen, to shed new light. Well, this story involves an amazing miracle!
While athletes from around the world are competing at the Olympic games in London, my friend is partaking in an Olympic sport in a class all of her own. She’s only been training for a short time, but I think she might just be a natural, although the drug authorities might disagree. Oh, she’s a doper. She didn’t want to be, but circumstances being what they were, what choice did she have? Sometimes all of our best intentions and most valiant efforts aren’t enough to get the job done, but in the face of something this important, sometimes values must be compromised and difficult concessions must be made.
After all, some things are just bigger than ideals. Some challenges just need to be overcome, no matter the obstacles. People don’t perform this kind of miracle every day, you know. Actually that’s not true! My friend is one of about 300,000 people across the world who will bear down, set everything else aside, sacrifice her health, comfort, and – yes – even her ideals to conquer this particular endeavour.
My friend is having her first baby. Right now. At this moment. As I’m writing this. She’s pushing and breathing heavy. Well, actually, I think that part is over now. I don’t know, because, as previously mentioned, I’m not at the hospital. I’m sitting at home waiting for a phone call to let me know that the doctor has ripped the baby from my friend’s body. Despite her best efforts and desires, my friend will sadly not be able to deliver her baby naturally. She’s in the hospital having a caesarean section.
She didn’t want it this way. She, like every woman I’ve ever heard of, had dreams of a beautifully natural birth, free of drugs and cuts and anything dramatic, although I don’t know how that’s at all possible because from what I understand, giving birth is the most dramatic thing that can happen in one’s life, other than being born, I suppose.
Maybe this is why men strive their entire lives to achieve and compete. They know what women are capable of and so they keep pushing in vain to get faster, stronger, better. Some of them have seen firsthand the effort and the blatant disregard for pain that is required to bring life into the world. How can they compare? They race on foot, in the water, over hurdles and through obstacles. And what do they get at the end? They get fame and metals. What do moms get? They get puke and poopy diapers.
This, and no other reason, is why I am happy to throw my hat in with the men, and strive to prove my mettle as a marathon runner. Although, to be clear, I should state that I have no illusions of garnering either fame or metals. I’m just hoping this distracts me long enough to avoid the puke and poopy diapers.
But some people, like my girlfriend, actually choose this path. She wants puke and poopy diapers, or at least that’s how I have chosen to summarize what she’s said. The full statement was something like “I want a baby so bad, even if it means dealing with puke and poopy diapers.” You can see how I came to my obvious conclusion.
Yes, it still baffles me that people choose this path. But then again, I’m still single. Maybe the strong desire for puke and poopy diapers is just a strange side effect of falling in love. I’m not sure. Whatever the case may be, I’m very happy for my friends.
I’ve just returned from visiting them in the hospital now. Despite the days without sleep and the physical trauma they’ve endured, both parents and their new baby girl are all looking incredibly well! In fact, compared to some of the athletes I see on the finish line, this little family looks like they’ve just had a day at the beach. Even if nothing went as planned, the results are all worth it.
Now, they’ve forever changed their lives. As I sat in the room with them, I could see my friends eyes continually dart toward her new daughter. Both mom and baby are all smiles, while all I can think is how different everything will be for them from now on.
And a little bit, I think of how my friend better get used to nothing ever going ‘as planned', and instead adopt more of a “Que sera, sera” attitude. As I understand, children have a way of making their own plans despite our best intentions. I really don’t understand how childrearing isn’t an Olympic sport!
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