Lesson #1 "Patience is not only a virtue, it is a necessity."

Exactly five weeks and one day ago I was miserable. I had been in labor for 16 hours or so and while I was effectively and gratefully epideralled (is that even a word? if it's not, it should be), it had been a long, long day. And I was stuck at an 8. I felt like that was probably written next to my name on the big patient whiteboard in the nurses station- "Annie Flurry, Induction, Stuck at an 8." 8 out of a 10 for dilation, and you can push at a 10. But I was "stuck at an 8" and the teacher in me could not help converting that into a letter grade. 8 out of 10. 80%- that's not even a B, that's a (gulp) B-. Just shy of- yes you guessed it... average. And I hate average.

It was around this time 5 weeks and 1 day ago that the "Waiting

Party" began to regrettably give up. The die-hards consisting of my mom and dad, Marilyn and Ron Brewer, Rosemary Deen, Anita and Steve Evans, and many other family members who ventured in and out throughout the day, had endured hard waiting room chairs, various take out meals, too much coffee and more just to hear that "she's stuck at an 8." But they hung in there- until it was obvious that Liam would not make his appearance on Monday, February 21, 2011. No... he would make us wait.

Ryan was wonderful and while I began to feel more and more uncomfortable, he took my hand and told me how proud he was of me. My mom quietly slipped in, the last of the Waiting Party who would

not be told to give up- she was in it for the long haul, no matter what. It was just the 3 of us in our quiet labor and delivery room, waiting. Tears were shed (mostly by me), confessions were made ("I just want him out," I said through tears because I never thought I would say that), and still we waited. Finally, at 11:30 pm, Dr. Carriker said, "You're stuck at an 8. I don't see you progressing any more. It's time for a C-section." And like that, everyone jumped into high speed, or so it seemed. Like when you have the fast forward on double-time, that's what it was like. Nurses with funny pressure socks to fit over my swollen ankles and calves got a work out trying to get them on. Ryan put on his funny looking HAZMAT-type surgical gown on, Mom made phone calls and practically wore her little fingers to the bone texting everyone. And then we were off to surgery.

While I was wheeled in, I noticed a very hip looking woman in a cool multi-colored scrub cap and all I could tell her was, "You smell really good." She laughed and said hi to me in a familiar way. Turns out she was Mrs. Steinman, the mother of one of my students and recognized me. She was my surgical angel, holding my hand, covering my shivering arms up with heated blankets, telling me step-by-step what was going on. And so I concentrated on Mrs. Steinman and Ryan while I tried to ignore the smell of the cautery.

And then Dr. Carriker said, "Oh yes, he's a big boy. Look at that hair." And suddenly he was here. Here out of my body and into our lives. And more than worth the wait.

Lesson well learned.