whoa month.

This has been the whoa month. From the love seat in my dear friend K.’s apartment in the Mission district of San Francisco, I am listening to footsteps over my head and cars just out of the window. We spent the day in the de Young museum, looking at dresses in the Balenciaga exhibit, traipsing through Golden Gate park and walking down near the Ferry building all the way to Fisherman's Wharf and Ghirardelli Square, took a hike out to a great little Mexican place, and are getting ready to head out for a little more fun. This coveted five-day weekend in S.F. comes on the heels of a 24 hour trip to Baltimore to see my Grampa’s 90th birthday speech, a weekend of digging up our front and back yards to plant spring grass, which most people swear will be a failure, and my sister’s second successful baby delivery! And that is a story…

Early the morning of March 13, Hannah and Josh went to the hospital because H. was fairly certain it was the baby hour. They sat for a while, and when they were finally admitted, sent a text saying today is the day. By noon, Mark and I (plus Kyle) were there, along with my ma and J., waiting for labor. Ma and I planned to be present for the halo moment, and obviously the boys planned to flee far, far away. By half past three there was no "progress" (let's keep this PG) so M., K. and I left to run back to H&J's house to grab some things. While at the house gathering the requested materials, we received a text from J. saying that she was about to begin "pushing." We flew like three bats out of the mouth of hell to the car, and drove 30 mph over the speed limit to get back to the hospital. Silence in the car--no radio. Watching for cops, me praying that I would not miss this monumental event.

They dropped me off at the front door, where I jumped before the car even came to a full and complete stop, and ran into the hospital. Of course I had no idea where to go, and frantically reading all of the signs, sort of shouted at this little nurse pushing a cart, "Babies?!" She looked at me blankly-- "Where are the babies?!" She pointed down a hall, through which I began a sprint. I blew past several people, who all stared at me, and turned a corner with a screech (in cowboy boots) where a security guard was standing. Bad alignment of circumstances. He shouted, "Ma'am, please walk!" To which I replied, "MY SISTER IS HAVING A BABY!" To which he replied, "You still need to walk." At this point, I'm buzzing the little intercom thing that lets you into the birthing unit. "Room number?" "168." "I'm sorry, but the woman in that room is in labor." "I UNDERSTAND THAT. I'M HER SISTER! I'M SUPPOSED TO BE IN THERE!" (Capitalization denotes shouting) Door buzzes and I take of running. Hear the security guard somewhere behind me yelling for me to SLOW DOWN, which I do, for a few paces, and then take off at a sprint again, hear him coming after me, screech around the corner and fly into Hannah's room like a psychopath. I walk in, labor is HAPPENING, and the doc looks at me and says, "Were you running?"


And then William Kyle was born... Good job, sissy :)