All three of our daughters are soooooo efficient. Definitely a trait from Mr. Wonderful. It took me three weeks to do "Quilt In A Day." Seriously.
So when D3 was on high alert awaiting a baby sister for Little Cutie, I decided the hour was at hand. THE NEW, IMPROVED, ORGANIZED GRAMMY! Ready to come up and watch Little Cutie at a moment's notice.
Maps to hospital. Check. Garmin. Check. Dog, cat, and rabbit feeding instructions. Security System codes. Little Cutie's medical authorization. Check, check, check.
Duffle bag packed. Lotion, shampoo, conditioner, and medicine refilled. Yup.
Hair washed daily. (Stays with Little Cutie mean iffy hygiene for Grammy. No details. Just trust me.)
And then - D3 was scheduled to be induced!
I confess. I let down my guard. Sure, the baby could arrive before the scheduled day. But Little Cutie took hours of labor. Hours.
So, one morning, I somehow conclude IT. WILL. NOT. BE. TODAY.
I do not wash my hair. I put my decent jeans into the washer. And my contacts into the six-hour-cleaning solution.
Immediately, a text from D3: "I think I am in labor. I am having trouble talking through my contractions. Getting ultrasound shortly, will let you know."
Wait . . . WHAT?? Okay, put duffel bag in car. Wet jeans on hanger in car. Glasses cleaned. Why the *&%@ didn't I wash my hair?
New D3 text: "Come on up. Contractions right through ultrasound. Why don't you go straight to daycare? Will leave carseat there."
Carseat? In Mini Cooper? Ruh-roh. Did not figure on that one. Carseat goes in (if at all) one way: through the boot (British for "tiny opening where trunk lid should be").
The process? Open boot. Put down one back seat, force the carseat through, slide it over and attach tethers. Gulp.
Divine inspiration. I get everything into the Mini in a truly unique (okay, helter-skelter) way. To insert carseat, just remove duffel bag. And complete the process, above. Genius, right?
And I am rolling. About 150 miles to Miss Debbie's Daycare.
D3 is calling now. "Mom - what's your EXACT e/t/a for daycare?"
"4:48 p.m." I reply. (Thanks, Garmin.) Good news! Miss Debbie will wait! Still, I am wishing Baltimore was not in the way. Also, that the rain would stop.
But St. Christopher is my co-pilot. About 4:30, I look wistfully in the direction of the hospital and head to Miss Debbie's.
At 4:48 on the button, I arrive! Assure Miss Debbie it will be "just a minute" while I put the carseat in.
Through the boot. In the rain. Crawling in and out of the rear seat (not an actual back seat) of my 2-door Mini. Old jeans and bad hair are not such a bad idea.
Carseat in, but I can't fasten the seat belt tethers. I pray. Loudly. I-will-not-swear-I-will-not-swear . . .
Text from son-in-law: "D3 is officially in labor."
"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!" Click!
Grab Little Cutie. Stay calm. Don't scare him. We're in the drive-thru line. Get some nuggets and get him home. Almost our turn . . .
Text from son-in-law: "7 lb. 9 oz. 20 in. Just perfect."
What????? WHAT????? Baby Girl is here?
Yep. at 4:31 p.m. Just as I passed the hospital.
Breathe. No details coming. The word "perfect" is a huge comfort though.
But then I start to remember that Miss Debbie said D3 was having trouble driving when she brought the carseat. Mentioned possibly waiting for son-in-law to pick her up from somewhere.
Did she have the baby in the hospital? Or, "Proud to announce the birth of our little girl in Target's parking lot." Focus, Grammy! PERFECT!!
At the house, Little Cutie and I pick at our dinner.
Then, a call from D3 and son-in-law. The baby was born in the hospital! Yay! (Son-in-law did pick D3 up at Target on the way.)
"We want Little Cutie to be the first one to see the baby. Can you bring him up tonite?"
Didn't I just drive 150 miles? In the rain? Without bathroom breaks? Wait - first to see the baby?? "ON OUR WAY!!!!"
We make an impressively quick exit. Okay, we only find one shoe for Little Cutie, but whatever. Special childbirth rules.
At the hospital, it is clear that D3 is well-known around the maternity ward. Everyone knows Little Cutie is The Big Brother. He is grinning like a little rock star.
And there they are - mother and baby. Such a precious little one.
And D3 - WHAT THE HECK?? - her hair and makeup looking fresh as ever. Because (wait-for-it) 45 minutes from admission to birth. See, D3 is efficient!!
We are all in love. Some other day Grammy will become organized. And no one will notice Little Cutie has no shoes in the photo. (Or if they do, they will have the grace not to mention it to Grammy!)
For today, it is more than enough to greet our new little blessing!
Welcome to the world, Baby Sister!