Friday, December 1, 2017
In 1970, many women were given anesthesia during the last few moments of delivery. The doctor didn't ask if you wanted it. They just did whatever they wanted, assuming you didn't have the brains God gave a chicken, so of course, you wouldn't know whether you needed to be awake or not.
When the O.B. nurse woke me, he kept going on and on about how I had a 'big, big boy'. I immediately corrected him because I just KNEW I had a girl. We had a little set-to over the gender of my new baby. Until my doctor asked the nursery nurse to bring my baby to the delivery room.
You have to understand that the nursery nurses back then were not very comfortable with a new mother actually TOUCHING the baby. Goodness knows what they thought was going to happen when we took our babies home, but she was clearly reluctant to surrender her blanket-wrapped bundle...even after my doctor ordered her to place the baby in my arms.
Well, you know...I started unwrapping the baby and he yawned and grabbed my finger with his tiny hand and somehow I just fell in love with him. And I really didn't care if he was a boy.
Happy Birthday, Tony!