A post by writer Sue Pace:
And the babies? Those stories connected to our offspring are some of the most memorable.
We’ve discussed whether to bring in a mirror during labor or not.
Beth says unabashedly yes, it is beautiful to see your baby come into the world.
I, on the other hand, said it was like watching a giant, stubborn tick getting pulled from your privates.
To epidural or not to epidural?
Lisa was just born to birth babies despite never hiding the fact that she wished they came out potty trained and verbal.
So, of course she was the one who got pregnant without trying and birthed full-term babies without painkillers.
I think the rest of us had our trials with either getting or staying pregnant.
And most of us went into the hospital with “epidural” tattooed on our foreheads in case the pain rendered us speechless.
Polly has adult stepchildren, so she gets the saint award for putting up with the rest of our overly self-indulgent mother stories – especially my ongoing claim that I made up my own lullaby that sounded vaguely like “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.”
Our vacations together have taken us east to Beaufort where Polly’s family has a beach house. Memories of a choppy boat ride to Cape Lookout with a very pregnant Denise on board bring us all a chuckle at its recollection. We know that this is the reason she came home and birthed her daughter two months early.
There have been tears as well while on these trips. A growing realization that pregnancy isn’t possible. A spouse who is losing control of his life. A sibling who may never understand.
There’s Polly’s bachelorette party at a local hotel involving erotically-shaped drinking straws and a bathtub that served as a bed for one of us who couldn’t tell the difference between the two.
Now there’s a mountain house in West Jefferson County thanks to Boots and a porch where a couple of us attempted to pole dance on a 4×4 recently after a few bottles of wine.
There’s a bed where we all piled onto, like ten-year-olds at a slumber party, and chatted for an hour about nothing and everything. The New river holds a leisurely two-hour inner tube ride complete with a cooler that had a tube all its own.
The six of us old gals went gliding down its path. Our butts getting stuck on some rocks in the shallows of the river was quite a sight. Some of us unexpectedly disappeared in the drop offs and needed to be rescued. Then all of us hit the quiet, lazy waters on a humid July afternoon, laughing at one another’s foibles and moving forward once again. Get over it, ya’ll!
To be continued…