by Lisa H Warren

Created on: November 06, 2008

My son was born in the era of Mr. Rogers; and anyone familiar with the beloved Mr. Rogers is also familiar with his neighborhood postman, "Mr. McFeely (played by David Newell), who accompanied his drop-offs to Mr. Rogers with the catch phrase, "Speedy Delivery". Well, that is the story of my son's arrival into the world. Whenever I would hear Mr. McFeely call, "Speedy Delivery!", it would remind me of the little boy watching Mr. Rogers and waiting to see what Mr. McFeely had brought.

My son didn't just have a "speedy" arrival. He arrived six weeks before "estimated time of delivery". To further complicate the matter, he arrived upside down - unbeknownst to the doctor, who had announced, "Your baby is bald as an eagle," only to later see that my baby had lots of dark gold hair that stood on end (the way Charles Schultz's "Woodstock's" does). My 4 lb, 8 oz son also arrived with one fierce capacity to scream, but I digress from the delivery story:

It all began on a dreary Monday in November, when, for some reason I never knew, my husband just didn't go to work. He hadn't announced any need for taking a "mental health day". Instead, he just kind of sat at the breakfast table, talking to me, and not getting up to go to work. As late morning set in we began to discuss going out in the afternoon to buy the baby a car seat. We didn't think it was any emergency, but since he had taken the day off it seemed like a good day to go baby-store browsing. The plan was to head out in the afternoon, although we didn't actually leave until close to 5:00. Since I hadn't eaten anything that day (for some reason that I don't know, because I usually ate), we decided to stop at a little muffin and sandwich shop on the way to the baby store. Our five-year-old son would be coming along, so we thought it would be nice for the three of us to eat out together.

Since I wasn't in the mood to eat much (now I know why, but I didn't at that time), I ordered an egg sandwich on toast. I had just taken two bites (I remember that - two bites) when I was shocked to have my water break. I think it may be every expectant mother's fear that the water will break somewhere like a restaurant; and there I was, dealing with the restaurant chair and a soaked-through coat that left few options but to announce to the waitress what had happened. Wearing the coat, I didn't look very pregnant, which is why the waitress seemed to have trouble "getting" what I was trying to say discreetly. This meant, of course, that

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• Next Page >>