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How I Got to Be in the Mother Of FIVE Club Finale(ly)

dapper donny

This sexy dude plus living in a tiny duplex packed with boxes and kids & with no entertainment = baby number five

By the time we get to the last member of our party we are living on the Outer Banks in a jammed pack duplex that belongs to a friend (one side for us, one side for our stuff) while our house is being built.

“This one’s yours,” I tell Donny when we discover that we’re pregnant. If it were physically possible I would surely let him be the pregnant one. Despite the discomforts, I pretty much enjoy being pregnant but enough is enough. The best Donny can do is pamper me. And he does. He brings me Great Garden sandwiches from Stuffy’s in Richmond because nothing else will do. “It’ll be soggy,” he suggests. I don’t care. He acquiesces. He takes care of everything when he is home, letting me be a miserably sick pregnant woman without concern. He lets me make the momentous decision to have this baby in Richmond via our midwife Sally. The details about how we can actually make this work are unimportant.

The months tick off one by one. I see a local nurse practitioner in between visits to Sally in Richmond. As time approaches Patty tell me that I will have the baby where I want to have it. But if need be she has a birthing kit. She can and will help me until we can get to the over an hour away hospital if it comes to that.

lewis

Lewis Chapin Ball February 2, 1985

Visits to Sally became more frequent. The baby is due in February. By late January I am ready. He’s not ready yet, Sally tells me. I know better, but since we have no real game plan other than wait for the baby, I accept another week of waiting. The next week when we trek to Richmond, Donny checks us into the Hyatt. I have told him that I just really can’t have the baby in his rooms at the store. They are clean and comfy. Two rooms he has carved out for his living space. One is a tiny living type room with a fold out couch that the kids sleep on. The other a room with built in book shelves and a mattress on the floor that takes up most of the space. The arrangement is fine normally but I can not visualize birthing our child there.

Our rooms at the Hyatt are a nightmare, right by the elevators, we can hear folks coming and going all night long. We check out. I go for my appointment with Sally. “He’s ready,” she declares. “This is what we’ll do. I’ll get Dr. Fitzhugh to bring his knitting needle to work tomorrow and we’ll pop the water sac.”

It worked by gosh!

Our mother son talk worked by gosh!

We check back into the Hyatt. Donny explains to the clerk that we need rooms away from the elevators. Things are much better. The kids are in heaven. A pool. A buffet. Endless TV.

We all get settled in for the night. I cannot sleep. During one of my many trips to the bathroom, I have a heart to heart talk with the baby. I tell him that one way or the other he is coming into this world in a few hours. I tell him that it will hurt a lot for both of us. I also assure him that if we work together it will be over quickly. I tell him about the doctor’s knitting needle that will start the birthing process. I tell him that it’s his choice whether he or the doctor start the ball rolling. I go back to bed.

I wake up for yet another trip to the bathroom. It’s early morning by now. While there, my water breaks. I smile and pat the baby, “Well done.” We call Sally. It is over soon. Our party is complete. Later Sally tells me that Dr. Fitzhugh forgot to bring his knitting needle to the office anyway.

The next week when I go for my checkup with Sally, Dr. Fitzhugh comes into the waiting room and purposefully walks up to me awe on his face. “How did you do that?” he asks. I look at him, confused at first. And then it dawns. “I talked to the baby. I told him that it was his choice.”

Missed Part One? Part Two? Part Three? Part Four?

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How I Got to Be in the Mother Of FIVE Club Part Four

You can’t get pregnant while you’re nursing. Ah, freedom for a few months. I bought it, hook, line & sinker.

And then one day Stephen quit cold turkey on me. Ten months old, he was eating solids but nursing was still the major part of his diet. Our kids loved mother’s milk. All solid nursers, no pussy footing around. But this baby just up and refused. My boobs were dying. “Please,” I implored. He clamped his mouth shut. The only way I could salvage the situation was to catch him just as he was falling asleep and trick him into draining a few drops from my super loaded, super confused breasts.

And then the light dawned. Hormones. He tastes new hormones. Pregnancy hormones. Nothing apparently that he wants anything to do with. Yup! We were on that band wagon again.

Soooo…natural delivery was a success but I could do better. I wanted a home delivery. I’m still trying to discern how I came upon information that there was a midwife in Richmond working through an OB-GYN to do home deliveries. Certainly not any of my girl friends. They were all main stream and this was radical. Not even any birthing centers in those days. Only hospitals. Being in the time well before google searching, I must have read an article somewhere. At any rate I called. My track record was a plus. I was told we needed to be within ten minutes of a hospital. MCV covered that base for us being just up the road from our Varina home. I was in.

Sally & I hit it off from the start. She was amazing. She had delivered babies in tents, in communes, and plain ordinary houses. The months drifted by. This baby was due in late November. At the start of the month, Sally told me that she was leaving town for a few weeks but would be back in plenty of time for delivery. She also told me that she was coming back on Election Day to vote and then was leaving again.

I protested. Did she forget that I was calibrated for early deliveries? Like clockwork every baby had been at least two weeks early. She told me not to worry and gave me her pager number. Election Day rolled around. I felt funny but nothing was happening. Still I couldn’t settle anywhere. I paced. I stretched. I played with Stephen. He napped. I didn’t. And then the mucus plug came out. A new one for me, I had read that meant imminent delivery. I called Donny. He came home. We waited. Nothing happened. And then contractions started rolling in, nice and slow, then picking up speed. “This is it!”

We paged Sally. She called. “We’re having dinner.” We was Dr Fitzhugh, his girl friend and Sally.

“You might want to skip dessert.”

They arrived to find me in full swing. “I’m worried about transition,” I told Sally. I did remember How. Hard. It. Really. Was.

sally

“You’ll be fine,” she said. She was right. Transition came and went. I hardly had time to recognize it. Time to push!

“Stop pushing for a moment,” came Sally’s calm voice. What? Not again. I stopped. “Get me a light,” I heard her say to Dr Fitzhugh who was hovering close by. Our bedroom had no overhead light. Only a small bedside lamp. There was one other lamp in the room but it had a broken shade and so only got turned on when you really needed a bright light. Dr Fitzhugh turned it on and brought it close to Sally. There was fumbling and low conversation. Then, “Okay push now. Hard!”

I did. And I promise just as that little soul entered the room everything changed. He filled the entire room with his presence. I could feel it everywhere. It was ethereal and glorious. We had our baby number four.

andrew born

Andrew Saunders Ball November 5, 1980

andrew s&a

“Why did you have me stop?” I asked Sally later.

“Oh the cord was around his neck,” she replied casually. “I needed to cut it.” So that’s what Andrew had been doing a few weeks prior when I was sure he was working on his gymnastic skills. Tangling himself up. I think early was a good thing. Glad that’s my calibration.

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How I Got to Be in the Mother Of FIVE Club Part Threeee

Life is good. Donny’s job in the family lighting business allows me to stay home with the kids. We frolic and play. We have fun.
rain play
A few years pass, both kids are in school. I go for my annual ob-gyn check up which also involves getting a new IUD insert. I am on the yearly plan by this time, no more shield. Almost as an aside I ask what will happen if I get pregnant with the insert in place. Termination I am told. No thank you I reply. I don’t want it under those conditions.

That left raincoats (Donny’s term for condoms) and careful counting as the only other options for us. We are careful but the very moment I feel overwhelmingly sick on a ride at Kings Dominion I know we are pregnant. And I am right. Termination is exactly how we landed in this new world and so those thoughts brought on by crazy pregnancy hormones are quickly dismissed.

Okay then this one is on my terms, I decide. The first two were on the doctors’ terms. I was always interested in natural child birth. I mean hadn’t women been doing this since forever? But I was quickly told it was just not a good idea with so much comfort at my disposal. I did not push back. Two epidural babies later and a bonus in the oven I am ready to take the reins.

Dr Knight is the youngest of the doctors in the group I elect to be and remain with because their reputation is that good. Plus Dr Knight and I have a history as he attended Donald’s birth. He agrees to my conditions. No drugs, no IV, all natural.

Such an affable child, our baby number three. He cooperatively scratches a tiny hole in his water sac allowing us plenty of time to bring in child care, get to the hospital (a different one but still on the opposite side of town) as a tiny little stream of water slowly empties the amnio fluids. Eventually we are at the hospital, parked and walking the strange empty hallways trying to find exactly where maternity is. Contractions are starting. The trickle down period is over.

We finally find our place and I settle into a labor room. The nurse tries to prep me for an IV. I tell her no. She looks confused. The doctor comes in and shrugs his shoulders. “Can we put a contraction monitor on you?” I agree. “How about a fetal monitor?” I feel like I might be losing control but agree. We are hooked up to the monitors but that’s it. Labor is getting serious.

“Oh look,” says Donny. “A contraction is starting.” He is fascinated. If I felt better I would have smacked him. I know a contraction is coming well before the stupid machine does.

The doctor wanders off, then comes back in, “How are you doing? Ready for your epidural?” I want to sock him too. I only glare.

I am birthing a baby. How do you think I am doing? I am working hard here. Very hard. I remind myself. Remember. How. Hard. This. Is. Do. Not. Forget. How. Really. Hard. This. Is. Really. Really. Hard.

Finally the nurse announces that I am ready for delivery. “Don’t push.”

What? Don’t push? That’s all I want to do. That’s what I’ve been working toward. Now I’ve got to hold the line. Don’t. Forget. How. Hard. This. Is. And then he is here. We have done it. Middlemost child and I. We are a natural team.

stephen

Stephen Dyott Ball April 29, 1979

 

 

 

 

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How I Got to Be in the Mother Of FIVE Club Part Too

The first chapter in this five part series has me announcing quite emphatically that one is enough. Months of seasickness morning sickness are not for this gal no matter how cute the outcome. I was firm. And then she got me. Cuteness won. She needs a friend, I tell Donny. He agrees.

emily two

Back then when we discussed having a family I said six, he said four. It was just conversation, never a real plan, just never not a plan. We both like children. That’s actually how we met. Creating an interactive booth for kids at a church function, but that’s a whole other story.

I have my Dalkon Shield taken out. Yes, I had one of those. Probably a good thing I opted out of the one kid plan. Again the advise, it may take awhile. Again, we’re immediately pregnant.

Maybe it won’t be so bad this time I lie to myself. It’s possibly worse. Emily is a trooper. We sit on the couch, eat popsicles and watch endless TV. A four channel selection worth. Her first full sentence is, “It can be yours if the price is right!”

The kip isn’t due until the end of March but my track record says early.

It’s morning. I feel weird. I beg Donny not to leave for work just yet. As he is getting another cup of coffee my water breaks, all over the bed. For the uninitiated, as I was, it’s a LOT of fluid. Followed by I’m not f*&king around here contractions. I fervently want to lay there (just not on the not water bed) and pop the kid out. My friend the couch will be perfect. But such birthing is only for hippies and those way out people.

We call the doctor. Meet us at the hospital. It’s going to be close. We call our neighbor Slim to come take care of Emily.

We start our journey to the hospital on the other side of town. Faster I urge Donny. His presses the pedal harder. Suddenly blue lights appear. “Hello officer, sorry about speeding but my wife is having a baby. Can you help get us to St Mary’s faster?” The officer looks at me. I’m too busy holding the baby in check to look back. I’m sure that he figures he either gives us an escort to the hospital or he helps deliver a baby. Escort it is.

Not that many months later Emily has her fully formed playmate. Mission accomplished.

donald and mickey

Donald Athelstan Ball Junior March 6, 1974

 

 

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How I Got to Be in the Mother Of FIVE Club Part One

me and e

Emily Downing Ball July 12, 1971

This is a repeat of my recent BlogSpot post because I am becoming rather attached to the new me. And since I have not finished the Mother Of Five Club saga here’s the first part again if you chanced to read it over there.

We were married a year. Be a couple for a year before starting a family sounded like good advice and we found that it passed fast and we were still happy with each other and our life.
So let’s take the kid plunge we reasoned. Don’t worry if it takes months or even a year said the doctor when I quite the pill. And use some protection for a few months until your body has time to readjust.

Barely weeks into commando there was just that one time when protection was too much trouble. And we found out how fertile we were.

I’m just tired and sick. You’re pregnant. No over the counter tests in those days. Finally official confirmation. I got sicker. My days went like this. I woke up, threw up, went to work, came home threw up, went to bed.

I was teaching. My usual lively classroom became a tomb. I dared anyone to talk, to move from their seat, to move in their seat, to look at their neighbor. They created some great art because they had nothing else to do.

I got sicker. I lost weight. A lot. Can’ t you give me something I whined to the doctor. Something safe. I remembered those thalidomide babies all too well. I can put you in the hospital was his reply. I will put you in the hospital if you cannot keep something down. Nope. I had a job that brought in a needed paycheck. Mashed potatoes and I became tenuous friends. Only three months. Only mornings.

Lies. Maybe for some. Not for me. Day and night for months. And months. And months. I’ll still be sick after the baby is born I sighed. Finally around month seven it subsided. Just in time for the No Room In The Inn for anything but baby part.

This child will be an only I decided. That will be just fine. Get it here safely and let it be healthy and that’s it. I will not do this again. Never.

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