Would it be too much to ask to just have a baby when you’re scheduled to have a baby?
Eight days before she was scheduled to arrive by c-section, Mackenzie decided she was tired of waiting on us (like her parents, she likes to shop early). Bobbi was at her Doctor’s appointment when she was informed, to her surprise, that she was having contractions. She has a high tolerance for pain and didn’t even realize she was in labor. She doesn’t flinch easily, even when I put cigarettes out on her arm.
“We need to schedule your c-section,” the doctor said.
“Can I go home and get my stuff?”
“No, you’re going straight to the hospital.”
(BTW: Bobbi drove herself to the hospital. “That’s right, we must get you into surgery right away so get your keys and meet us over there…”)
Meanwhile, I was in the middle of a classic sitcom moment, rushing to pack, calling family and friends, hiding the sex toys because my parents were coming to stay at the house…. I finally made it to the hospital only to find my sister had beat me there. Duana is the only person on the planet who actually keeps a rocket up her ass in case of family emergency.
At 1:18 Mackenzie was born. She weighed 7 pounds 4 ounces and “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” by Bruce Springsteen was playing in the delivery room. At that moment I said a little prayer, thanking Our Lord Jesus that my wife and newborn daughter were healthy and that it wasn’t “Grandma got Run Over by a Reindeer.”
I went up to the nursery with Mac while Bobbi went to recovery. After they got Mac situated, I went down to get my sister. As we stepped off the elevator at the nursery, we were met by a nurse pushing Mac in a baby bed. “We’re taking her to Intensive Care,” she said. If you’ve never had a nurse say that to you, trust me, you don’t ever want to hear it. Mac’s blood oxygen level was low and she wasn’t breathing well. They said they were going to take her to I.C.U. for a few hours to monitor her. They were wrong.