This post describes the events of June 15, 2007. It is one year later and I remember it so vivedly I thought I should share.
I was camped out at my daughter's house..there for the long haul. The doctor had said any day, but we were in week three, having done all the known techniques for bringing on labor. I was exhausted already just with my daughter's anxiety about "when" and "is the baby okay?" I couldn't answer either of those questions and that made me feel incompetent at helping my darling very pregnant daughter. Steve finally decided to go home and wait for the call. Driving would only take five hours and we knew that labor certainly would take longer than that. Mine had been 19 hours and ended in a C-section. I didn't want to predict, but I guessed that Lauren's would be similarly difficult. Big head ran in our family, she was only five foot four and her hubby was six foot five. Do the math. So we kissed and hugged each night when she and Patrick went to bed and hoped tonight would be the night. And of course it wasn't....until June 14th around midnight. Lauren knocked on my door and said, "Mom, I think I'm in labor." I understand what adrenalyn can do because I was up and dressed in less than a minute and pretending to be calm. Lauren looked dazed and her husband stood by her side waiting to help do whatever was needed. Her labor pains were slight but coming every five minutes. The doctor said to come in right away. Lauren asked me if she had time to take a shower and wash her hair. I breezily said....sure. Labor takes a while, might as well be comfortable. Of course she had had the manicure and pedicure. Patrick packed the overnight bag...well, they had packed it and repacked it so I think Patrick was just looking for something to do.
By the time Lauren got out of the shower and dried her hair the contractions had become more serious. We rushed her into the car and Patrick drove the fifteen minutes to the hospital. Lauren was breathing heavily...they don't do LaMaze anymore. When the nurse checked her into the birthing room, all the bells went off. Lauren was ....centimeters and the baby was expected at any time. Lauren asked for the epidural as she was in considerable pain at this point. God love her, she didn't scream, she clutched Pat's hand and held her breath. We were only into three hours since she went into labor. A wonderful nurse who had birthed more babies than she could even remember took Patrick and me through the part we would be playing helping Lauren to deliver the baby. Where was the doctor? I called Steve and told him to get in the car...whatever he was wearing. I knew he wouldn't make it but at least he'd get there shortly after. Patrick called his folks who would come the next day.
Then the doctor arrived. 
As embarrassing as this is, I have to admit that the doctor looked like a television model more than a doctor. Of course I didn't say this to Lauren, nor would she have cared. She kept asking for the epidural and the nurse said there might not be time. Yikes.
Then like the good fairy arriving from the North, a very tiny Indian woman strolled into the room and assured Lauren that her pain would be over shortly. And it was. The doctor, whose name I wish I knew was so skilled she made the proceedure look easy. I know from my own experience that getting the epidural needle into the right position takes lots of skill. My experience many years earlier had been very different and I'm told the resident who botched my epidural several times could have done much harm. Why is giving birth so hard?