"So, how about having a baby today?" (Thirty Years Later)

Looking back, it’s hard to believe that this exact week marks thirty years since I welcomed my very first child—my sweet baby boy—into the world. Time truly flies, but some memories are so hilariously chaotic they feel like they happened yesterday.

I had always been overweight and had made an appointment to see a doctor about getting these weight-loss pills—the kind you definitely cannot take if you are pregnant. My appointment was that Friday. It was Wednesday, and I just had a strong gut feeling that I was pregnant. So, I took a test, and it came back positive. I was overjoyed, and so was my husband, so losing weight would just have to wait.

During the first trimester, a very specific craving took over: McDonald's Egg McMuffins. I normally didn’t even like them, but I needed one every single morning like it was a medical necessity. It became such a reliable habit that before long, the lady at the window would practically have my order ready and waiting for me before I even finished turning the corner. I’d devour it as soon as I got to work, only to immediately make a beeline for the restroom to give it right back. At least I had my McMuffin.

When the next trimester started, the morning sickness stuck around, joined by a delightful mix of gestational diabetes and preeclampsia. My blood pressure was high, there was protein in my urine, and the swelling in my feet was unbelievable. Squeezing my feet into shoes every morning was absolute torture, though I was at least grateful for a sit-down job where I could slip them off under the desk.

By my fifth month of keeping nothing down and living shoe-free, I had to go out on leave. I remember just sitting in bed feeling miserable, where every single smell made me sick. But then the baby would kick, and it would instantly make everything feel worth it.

My husband and I were staying with my parents at the time, and with about three weeks to go until the due date, my parents decided to drive back to New York to get my sister and her baby so they could be there for the birth. I didn't really want them to leave, but I also really wanted to see my sister.

They left on a Sunday, and the next day, Monday, I had a doctor's appointment. Since my husband had to work, I had to drive myself. I squeezed my feet into my shoes and wobbled into the clinic.

I will never forget that appointment. My doctor had his back to me, turned around, and casually said, "So, how about having a baby today?"

Wait, I'm not due for three weeks! My mother isn't even here! I started to panic. But it was time, and I was getting sicker.

My doctor told me to go home, grab my bag—which wasn't even packed yet—and my husband, and be at the hospital in about an hour.

I raced home, a mix of panicked, crying, and somewhat excited. I called my husband, and what should have been a 25-minute drive turned into a 10-minute dash. To this day, I don't know how he managed that; he must have been flying.

I called my parents, and my mother immediately started yelling at my father that they should have stayed. But even if they turned around right then, they'd be too late, so I just told them to grab my sister and head home.

On the way to the hospital, I told my husband we had to stop at Kmart because I needed slippers. My husband looked at me, looked down at my feet, and said, "I don't think they'll have slippers for you."

"I need slippers!"

We stopped at Kmart, and since I couldn't walk very far, I sent him in solo. He came back with dainty, open-toed slippers that had zero chance of fitting over my swollen feet. I started stressing out because now we were running late and I still didn't have any footwear.

When we finally got to the hospital, the staff mentioned we were late, and I looked right at my husband like it was entirely his fault.

Since this was my first child, I had no idea what to expect. They got me changed, put me in a bed, and hooked up IVs in both arms to pump me full of fluids. They gave me Pitocin to get contractions going, which kicked in pretty quickly, and soon after, the doctor broke my water. Then the anesthesiologist came in for the epidural. It was painful and scary, but my contractions were getting intense.

I can remember looking at the clock and it being 6:00 PM. I kindly suggested my husband go grab something to eat from the cafeteria, mostly so he wouldn't pass out from the stress.

Within 5 minutes, the doctor came in, checked my cervix, and cheerfully announced, "Alright, we're fully dilated and ready to push!"

Cue emergency panic.

Only one problem: my husband was currently missing in action. We had to wait around for him to reappear a full 30 minutes later, completely unfazed with a Pepsi in his hand. The moment he walked back in with his soda in tow, it was officially showtime. 

Because of the epidural, I couldn’t actually feel the contractions, so the nurses had to step in as my personal cheer squad, shouting out when it was time to push. Naturally, I wasn't pushing hard enough for their liking, so they kept yelling at me to bear down harder and harder.

I kept thinking, Seriously? I have zero prior experience here!

At one point they even suggested I should scream. Absolutely not. I was not about to start howling and sound like a complete lunatic in the middle of a hospital.

With my husband right there by my side cheering me on, the doctor finally leaned in, smiled, and cheered, "I see hair—give me one final push with everything you've got!" With zero hesitation left, I pushed like my life depended on it, and just like that, my sweet baby boy made his grand arrival at 8:59 PM.

Reflecting on it all thirty years later, it’s wild to think about how that chaotic, shoe-squeezing, McMuffin-fueled day turned into a lifetime of motherhood.  My "baby boy" is officially celebrating his 30th birthday this week, and while he’s a grown man now, I can still close my eyes and vividly remember every frantic, beautiful minute of how he got here.

Best of all? When I finally left the hospital to head home, I had miraculously lost ten pounds right out of the gate—so I suppose those weight-loss pills weren't even necessary after all! Here’s to thirty years of love, laughter, and incredible memories. 

-Jackie