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I love birth stories. I love to read or listen attentively, all the while itching for MY turn to tell MY story.

It was five years ago, and while many, more recent, memories have faded, this one burns brighter everyday, and is one I'll always cherish.

My pregnancy was not an easy one; riddled with gestational diabetes, low amniotic fluid, high blood pressure, three trips to the hospital for pre-term labor, two months of bed rest and a partridge in a pear tree. I was seeing my doctor twice a week, desperate for something to go right for a change. It was a Friday, and I had been pregnant for 38 weeks and 3 days. My blood pressure was high AGAIN, but I showed no signs of toxemia. The doctor pounced on the diagnosis, anyway.

"We'll induce you," he said. "Either Tuesday or Friday. Which works better for you?"

Was he kidding? I was on bed rest. I did nothing but lay in my recliner or in bed watching day time television, losing my mind. "Tuesday!" was my over enthusiastic answer.

It was very exciting, knowing I'd be a mother in just a few days. I didn't sleep much over the weekend, despite well meant advice that I should get all the rest I could. My mom and gramma arrived very late Monday night, or very early Tuesday morning. I couldn't sleep and had lost track of the time. They oohed and awwed over my huge belly, eager to bring another generation into the world.

At the hospital the next morning, my doctor had called in sick. The one who was covering for him was the only doctor out of the entire practice that I hadn't connected with. The hated doctor took off his jacket, donned his gloves, and broke my water with an orange stick before washing his hands, replacing his coat, and leaving without so much as a "How-do-you-do?" I had worried for most of my pregnancy that my water would break and I would go into labor without realizing it. When I felt that gush between my legs, though, I knew though, that I would have been able to figure it out.

The nurses started my pitocin IV, and asked me about an epidural. I didn't want one, but was open to the idea if need be. Three hours later, I changed my tune. I wanted that epidural, and I wanted it NOW. Unfortunately, the anesthesiologist was in surgery and it was another hour and a half before I got any relief.

The hours kept ticking by with the lower half of my body successfully numb. Three babies were born in the room next door to mine, and I begged the nurses to roll me over there so some of the delivery vibes could rub off on me.

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