“You’ve got this!” My mom encouraged as I struggled through another difficult contraction. I was in labor with my second child and my mom was my coach.
Two weeks
earlier, my husband moved to Las Vegas, Nevada. He was to prepare a place for our
little family to move to as soon as the baby was born. He was still in Vegas
when Dr. King informed me that Scott needed to come right away for the birth of
his second born. I called my husband, and he hit the road.
In the meantime,
my mom was my pregnancy coach, and my mother-in-law was watching our 18-month-old
while I gave birth.
Mom picked
me up at noon to take me to the hospital. She looked beautiful. She always did.
She never went anywhere without looking “put together.” She wore a bright
yellow shirt, sunshine ear rings, and denim culottes. She smiled as she excitedly took me to the
hospital.
My mom spent
the next 6 hours giving me ice chips and holding my hand through the pain. She
told me stories about her school students and their antics to take my mind off
the labor.
I remember
her smiling a lot in anticipation. My mom’s smile is legendary. She never
showed her teeth when she smiled, but her eyes danced. Every time the doctor
and nurses came to check on my progress her smile would reach almost to her
ears.
At 6:00 p.m.
on June 26, 2000, I told the doctor that it was time for me to push. He told me
to wait for my husband, but Katia wasn’t patient.
I began
pushing. Mom continued to hold my hand and cheer me on. After two pushes, my
husband walked into the delivery room. He came up to where my mother stood and
took her place, taking hold of my hand. Mom moved down toward the foot of the
bed to get a better view of her newest grandchild.
Earlier in
the evening, Dr. King asked me if it would be alright if one of the interns delivered
our baby. I assured him that would be OK. So, the intern was in position with
my mom standing close by.
Katia was so
excited to join the world that instead of coming out in the span of two pushes,
she slid out in one. The intern was caught by surprise, and my baby girl
slipped through his hands.
My mother
jumped into action. She caught my precious child before she hit the floor. The
yellow shirt she had adorned for my benefit was a mess, but my little girl was
healthy and safe. My mother literally
saved my daughter’s life.
Since, she
always reminded my daughter, “I caught ya’, Katia!”
Mothers are extraordinary!
My mother has always been my role model. She’s been my cheer leader. She’s been
my teacher. She’s a mentor, a confidant, a religious instructor, and a terrific
grandmother. She’s been my best friend.
Lance Conrad
once wrote, “I can imagine no heroism greater than motherhood.” My mom really
is my hero!
At least
that’s the way I remember it.
