It was always the same until today. Before when I would go to my doctor’s appointments it would be cloudy and when I would come outside afterwards it would be sunny. That was good I thought. But today was different...it remained cloudy. My doctor said that I was doing well and that he thought that it was time for me to go the hospital to have my baby. After all, I would "get it over with before Christmas" he said. For the first time since I learned that I was pregnant, I felt fear. A fear that I was soon to lose a part of me, a part of me that I loved with all my being. Driving home after the appointment with instructions to pack my bag and return to the city to begin the process of giving birth, I felt a similar reaction as I did a couple of years earlier in the aftermath of a serious automobile accident and I wasn’t sure that I would survive. I knew nothing about giving birth. No one, not even the doctor, would tell me what to expect. But I knew this day would come and I knew that I had to focus so that I wouldn’t lose control. I thought if I lost control not only would I lose my baby but I would lose myself as well. In school I had learned about "the survival of the fittest" and I knew that it was good that I had been under a doctor’s care and that I had taken vitamins but was it enough? I had to focus. I also had a flash across my mind. I remembered studying "A Tale of Two Cities" and wondering about the opening line... "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"...and for the first time it made a little more sense to me than it had when I first read it, what was it, four years ago or so? All I ever wanted to be in life was to be a mother and now I was getting my chance. The only flaw in the otherwise joyous event was that I hadn’t figured out how to keep my baby. "The best of times, the worst of times", it felt like a cruel understatement of the situation at hand.

Mom, Paul and I arrived back at the house. I asked my mom what I should take to the hospital...I had never been and stayed overnight before. I struggled to find the things that I needed. I didn’t want to go. Mom called my sister in law and told her what the doctor had said and asked her if she could come from the city and drive us to the hospital. It seemed like she was there too soon. Once again we all piled into the car and headed to the city. I remember I had a red blouse on and a pair of jeans that I tied together with a scarf around my bulging tummy. I had no money to buy maternity clothes. I wore a brown corduroy coat that was full enough to fit over me. I felt so small. I felt so young. The process of checking into the maternity ward of the hospital was overwhelming to me. All I wanted to think about was my baby not the endless questions they kept asking me. What difference did it make what my religion was? Why did I have to sign a paper listing my belongings that they took from me as soon as I got there? And I hated this hideous hospital gown. I felt so pitiful and I wondered what I could focus on now that they had taken everything from me. Never had I felt so vulnerable in my whole life. When they finally left me alone in a room by myself I curled up into a ball and hugged my tummy...my baby. I wondered how long it took to have a baby but there was no one with me to ask. Then briefly a woman was wheeled into the same room as me. She chatted with me and told me she was having her fifth baby and asked if this was my first. I said "yes, but I can’t keep my baby." She looked at me blankly and didn’t say a word. As soon as the nurse returned to the room they chatted briefly and the nurse took her away. Alone again. This time it seemed like quite awhile. I hugged my baby. I wouldn’t let myself cry.

Suddenly, it seemed, there was a rather large woman in the room with me. A nurse, I assumed by the white uniform. She seemed rather jovial compared to the other people that I had encountered since being admitted. She had gray hair and seemed grandmotherly to me. I don’t know her name and didn’t think to ask. I was hooked up to an IV that had something...a drug...called pitocin in it. I didn’t know at the time that it was to help my labor to start. She left. Then someone in a different kind of uniform came in and said that there was someone to see me and she would wheel me out in the hallway. I remember thinking...why can’t they come in here? Out in the hallway, were my mom and Paul and my oldest brother. I could see the concern on their faces. We talked a little bit and then my other brother arrived. We were just chatting...making small talk...there were nervous smiles when suddenly a person in uniform came running out and said in quite an alarmed manner that I shouldn’t be out there because the pitocin could throw me into a rapid labor so I needed to go back to my pre-labor room. About once every hour a very agitated uniformed person would come and stand in the doorway and tell me that "There is a Paul Blake at the nurse’s station wanting us to check and see how you are doing." I didn’t know at the time that my family had left the hospital and that Paul was alone in the waiting room so that someone would be there for me. He told me later how he worried. How he was afraid that something would happen to me and my baby. And even worse than that...that they wouldn’t even bother to tell him. So his plan was to bug them all night long so that he wouldn’t feel so all alone in his concern for me. That was such a blessing to me. I wished I could tell them how scared I was...how offended I was that I seemed to be shoved in a room out of the way...and how sad I was that I was about to lose my first baby. But I never said anything. It was the most alone that I had felt in my whole life.

My first labor pains were coming and with them a sense of dread and the unmistakable feeling of nausea. A uniformed person decided it might help me to have some chips of ice and not knowing any better I took what she gave me. The nausea turned into vomiting and thus began my rude awakening into the world of giving birth. Someone came and gave me a shot of something that was supposed to take the edge off the pain and the nausea. I don’t recall it being very helpful. Thus began a long night. An uncomfortable night. All alone except for occasional uniformed personnel and that woman....that stood in the doorway every hour letting me know that Paul was still checking on me. Labor is an appropriate name for what I was going through...it was very hard work. It took alot for my little first baby to be born. It was probably best that I didn’t know what was ahead of me.

The night loomed large in front of me. I wondered if morning would ever come. There seemed to be no control over the nausea and vomiting and pain but once again they tried to stop it by giving me another shot. Nisentil...40mg. I couldn't understand why the medicine didn't work. I couldn't sleep. I thought about what I would name my baby...that was before I knew that I would never get the opportunity to name him. I thought about Jason. Five letters. J...A... Why didn't they tell me it would hurt so much?

The long night was coming to an end. I seemed to be nowhere with my labor. Just sick and in pain. A nurse very brusquely informed me that I was not progressing as I should. Another shot was given. I wanted to cry so much but I was afraid if I started I couldn't stop. Oh how I wanted to see someone that I knew...a member of my family...Paul...a friend...just someone. I felt so all alone. Everyone seemed mad at me and I didn't know how to have a baby any better than the way I was doing it. My world seemed out of control and for a brief moment I couldn't remember how I got to this point. A funny thought suddenly crossed my mind. One time at a carnival I had gotten something called a mood ring that when you wore it, it would change colors supposedly depending on your mood. My mood was so dark just like the room I was in so I figured the ring would be dark as well. Funny what you think of when your world is spiraling out of control.

One of the miracles in a hospital is called...shift change. Suddenly, as though an angel had been sent to me, there was a very pretty, young woman named Mary at my side. The first thing she did was tell me that everything was going to be all right and that I had worked very hard all night long. Once again in my life someone came along when I needed to be comforted and cared about and taken care of. She got me a toothbrush and let me brush my teeth. She gave me a bath. Then she brushed my long hair and even took the time to braid my hair to keep it out of my face. When she came on duty she wrote in her nurses notes..."Patient appears nervous and tired." But by 8:10 she wrote..."Patient seems much more relaxed and appears to be sleeping between contractions." Mary was there to guide me through the rest of my labor. I knew that she understood the emotional pain I was feeling as well as the labor pains. God brought me an angel in Mary. It was a long morning as well but Mary never left my side until it was time for me to go to the delivery room...she wasn't allowed to go with me. I don't know why. Rules...I guess. Somewhere in the haze of the medications I was being given I remembered that my mom had wanted to name me Mary Elizabeth.

The final stages of labor were definitely upon me. I was given an inhaler to breath when each contraction came. I felt my insides tearing and I thought that maybe I was going to die. I wasn't sure you could be fixed after something like this. I was quickly wheeled into the delivery room.

A man with a mask over his face and glasses said nothing to me but put a mask of some sort over my face. The next thing I knew it was total darkness and then a sound that reminded me of a large metal door being slammed shut was the last thing I remember.

In my darkened world, my baby was born. I never got to see him or hold him. When I was awakened there was no one but me and the masked man who simply said..."It's over." A nurse wheeled me to another room. This time my mom and Paul got to come in. I was shaking so much they thought I was cold. I was not... I asked what time it was and someone said...12:38. One day in my life had come and gone and with it's passing I would never be the same again.