The Sweet Sixteen

Sixteen years ago, I became a mother for the first time.   My baby daughter Amber was born on June 24, 1996 at Doctor's hospital in Miami on an extremely hot day in the Magic City.    I had gone into the hospital the night before because I started bleeding at 39 weeks.  My wonderful "country Cuban" doctor (as he liked to refer to himself) Dr. Inglesias decided that since I was so close to delivering and they couldn't figure out why I was bleeding that they had better induce me.   All of this seemed to be happening so fast - my sisters and mother had all delivered two weeks late for their first children and I figured that I still had a good three weeks before the baby came.  Damn, I had not even packed my bag.   But as any OB-GYN can tell you, babies have their own agenda and unless you schedule a C-Section well in advance they come when they want to come.  My baby daughter did so in the most dramatic way possible - blood everywhere (pre and post birth) - scaring me and giving her father his first gray hairs.    

The first few days after "baby-gedden" were interesting ones.   I was discharged less than 24 hours after giving birth with this little 7 pound six ounce stranger.   Amber had terrible colic and I had the misguided notion that drinking milk and eating tons of dairy would improve my breast-milk supply.   It was only after two weeks of crying binges that lasted hours (both Amber and me) that our pediatrician told me to cut back on dairy completely and get some Mylicon drops to help with her colic.  Finally, those crying episodes lasted only 20 to 30 minutes at a time (again, Amber and me) and peace seemed to reign in the house.   She would nurse peacefully and her dad would give her the football hold to help her belly.    That time was the "nesting period" when you, your husband and baby settle in and it's just you and them.    I remember those days of just sitting in the rocking chair and holding her as absolute nirvana.  Max would be in the kitchen making dinner while we rocked quietly listen to music or watching TV (only PBS of course- seriously - we didn't have cable then).   Sometimes he would take her in the kitchen in the Snuggely and make dinner while I rested.    She loved falling asleep on her father's chest.  Our world of three would only be interrupted by visits from Grandma and Grandpa who would shower her with affection and offer to babysit while Max and I went out to reconnect as a couple.   

Probably the hardest thing a working mother has to do is go back to work after having a baby.   You have this wonderful schedule set up and now you have to reinvent it so that it works as best as possible so that you can go back to your career life and leave the baby for those 40 plus hours you work in your job.   Luckily, Max was working at home at that time, so I knew I was leaving her in excellent hands - but I would feel a twinge of jealousy as I passed her back to him after our pre-work nursing session knowing that I had to pump at work and freeze the precious fluid in the freezer for her to have later the next day.   Monday's were the worst as I'd nurse her on demand the whole weekend and then return to work only to find myself need to pump three times a day and by the time I got on Metro-rail to go home, my bra cups were running over and the admiring looks from the lonely businessmen were just creepy.  

As time went on, we noticed that Amber was more sensitive than most infants to sounds.  You could not turn a page in a magazine in the same room with her without her waking up and crying - her ears were that sensitive to those types of sounds, but the TV being on was fine.   By the time she was one, she was not talking very much - really not at all - just a few words like "No,"  "Mama," "Daddy" and interestingly enough "e-mail."   We figured that she was just observing more than talking but she was also having a hard time making eye contact and when she was at the park as a toddler at 18 months - she would play on her own - seemingly oblivious to the other children.  When the other park mothers - who were eager to impress each other - would tell how many words or short sentences their children were forming - I would try to change to subject into the blocks that Amber would build.   I knew something was not quite right, but I didn't know what.   She was this beautiful blue eyed and blond haired two year old with rosy cheeks and yet she would barely say a word.  She would run around in circles at the park but had a hard time connecting to the other kids.   When she went for her 24 month check-up our pediatrician asked about her developmental milestones - she was meeting the running, walking and climbing but not the talking.   She would go to the corner and play with blocks and ignore everything else.   He suggested that we go to the Marcus Institute to have her tested.  Naively we asked if it was a place to help her with her speech.  The doctor replied that she needed to be tested for autism.    Max and I both looked at each other - unable to say much ourselves.   "But I thought that autism was a boy's condition," I replied numbly since I had two nephews with autism Spectrum Disorder.   "It's less prevalent in girls - only about 10% to 15% of the cases are girls, but they do get it especially if it runs in families," the doctor explained.   So we took our sweet little daughter to be tested and hoped that maybe they were wrong that she was just not talking and needed speech therapy.   But the diagnosis was that she did have autism but that she was on the mild end of the spectrum.    She would need special therapy and classes which luckily Gwinnett County schools provided once they got that diagnosis.  

And so the world of IEP's (Individual Educational Plans) began.   We would meet with a team of teachers who specialized in learning and behavioral disorders and we would set goals for Amber to achieve.   Mostly it was for verbal skills and socialization - they caught on that she was a smart kid but that she had a hard time expressing things and could be extremely sensitive.   I mean really, really sensitive - empathic which is not something most kids with autism have the ability to be.   She could not take the dull din of a cafeteria or a food court with a low roar, the sound made her very uncomfortable.   I remember being in line at Target getting ready to check out when Amber started to cover her ears.  I looked around trying to find out what the source her discomfort was - I could not hear anything out of the norm.   Then the sound of a child starting to have a meltdown started to drift through the store, but Amber had heard it about 30 seconds before anyone else in the front of the store did.   Her teachers reported the same thing - that she would cover her ears and start to cry and then about a minute later they would hear the cries of a child maybe two classrooms down having a tantrum.   When she got more verbal at three years old, she developed a condition called echolalia in which she would repeat things over and over that she heard - lines from her favorite shows like Arthur, Teletubbies, or Sesame Street.   Sometimes it worked to her advantage like when other kids heard the dialogue they would come over and start talking about the shows.  Other times you couldn't get her to talk about anything else and the kids would get irritated and leave.   I always appreciated those children who stuck around because they didn't know anyone at the park and just wanted to play.  

I remember a group of moms setting up play-dates with the kids in Amber's Special Education Pre-K class.    The kids would have an activity that one parent would supervise and the rest would sit and talk.  I remember one mother just looking distraught and saying that she read everything she could about autism and crying herself to sleep every night.   That comment struck a nerve and I replied "Then stop reading those books - your son is your son - he's not a condition and whatever his journey is with this is for you and him to discover.''   My comment got another mother to interject "But if you don't know the latest research - how can we help our kids?"   "Precisely my point," I countered "you are the expert on your child - the research is great but you need to know what will and won't work and for crying out loud - don't read things that are going to make you sob in the middle of the night.  That's definitely not helping you or him."    I didn't get invited back after that - but what did I know?  There is so little written on girls with autism that for Amber, I literally had to make it up as I went along.  Where other mothers wanted to keep their kids home because it was easy to contain them, my feeling was "Hell, no - I'm not going to be a prisoner with my child.   She's going to have to know how to deal with the real world - stares and all."   So we continued to go to the park and sometimes Amber played by herself and sometimes other  kids would play with her and either way she wasn't really bothered by it.   We went to movies, we went out to dinner, we went to the shopping malls  - we did normal stuff.  I'd learn to know when she was getting too over stimulated and get her into the car just as the magic was wearing off and she was turning into a screaming pumpkin.  

As she progressed in school, her communication got better and her teachers genuinely loved having her in class.    With autism classes in Gwinnett County, you stay with the same teachers for years so they could see your progress.   She handled the birth of her brother really well when she was four years old - just a few meltdowns that first month and we were home free- about what you would expect from a child even without autism.   I have always thought that allowing Amber to have her IEP was a good thing for all kids in general because all kids learn differently.  I felt for the ones who were grouped into classes and had to followed a standard curriculum that they were not being given the opportunity to figure out how they learned best - but Amber got that advantage.    Before she went into middle school, I had one of her teachers take me aside and tell me that she's going to be fine.   She'll be able to live on her own and balance a check book.   She was already talking about being a background animator for Pixar when she grew up - and that was in the fourth grade.     She still wants to be a cartoon animator and she has the focus to do it.   She loves her high school and I pray she gets to finish her career there (sometimes autism programs get cut at one school and combined at another- that happened her last year at middle school but she did surprisingly well with the change).  

I guess as I look back on my first sixteen years as a parent - I've had moments of doubt as to whether I'm really any good at it.   I've had to deal with the guilt that maybe if I had read more research - she'd be further along.   Then I hear my daughter and her brother laugh together and rarely fight (at the most they get a bit annoyed at each other) and I think how lucky I am.  They are truly close and love each other very much.   I've never had my teenage daughter throw a hissy fit and storm out of the room saying that she hates me and wishes she was never born into this family (unlike some of the teen fits that happened in my family during the teen years in the 1970's).   She's sweet, funny, creative and has her own site on Fan Fiction where she posts stories and has followers from all over the country.  I'm actually very grateful to God for giving me the opportunity to love and cherish someone like Amber.  It completed changes how you see the world and how you judge people.    I know now that nothing is ever easy and even parents with "normal" teens have their challenges.   For me, I try to enjoy the moment now and not worry about if she'll marry, or get a decent job or have kids.   I know those things are coming but why worry about something you have very little control over?   

Sixteen years ago, I held my baby daughter for the first time and my life has never been the same.   I'm a much better person for knowing and loving Amber.  I hope one day she'll know the same joy I've felt as a mother.   But for now baby girl, be enjoy your sweet sixteen and blow out the candles - because in a very wonderful way - you very definitely take the cake.  

Birth of a Notion - Part 2

I was sitting on the exam table in a doctor's office because I had a terrible sinus infection that had been going on for a week and I could barely breathe.   The nurse came in and asked the usual questions including asking if I was pregnant in case they needed to prescribe some medication that might be bad for a developing fetus.   I mentioned that Max and I had been trying and that we'd only been at it for a few weeks so the chances of me being pregnant were remote - after all it took my about four months to get pregnant with Amber.   As a precaution, they had me do a pregnancy test.   I sat in the room -- not thinking too much about it.   Then I heard the excited sounds of the nurses talking - "Oh my God, she is, she is!"   Since this was a general practitioner's office, they probably didn't do many pregnancy tests.   Then the nurse came in with a big smile on her face and said "Guess what, you're pregnant!"   I took a deep breath (at this point most of my breaths were big because inhaling from my nose was difficult) and looked at the pee stick in awe.   There was a bright blue cross - which meant pregnant.    I mean, it must have happened a few days after my last period - I wasn't even late.   My head began to swim - me pregnant - now.    I figured I had at least until the spring but this baby wanted to come into the world now and there would be no delays.   The doctor gave me my estimated due date:  December 7th - Pearl Harbor Day - a day that would live in infamy.   He asked if I had an OB-GYN which I did.    I walked out of the doctor's office with more than a sinus prescription - I had another person growing inside of me. 

I called Max immediately in the car and told him.   He told me he knew it.  "How could you know it -- I didn't even know it and I'm the one whose knocked up?"  I replied feeling that newly pregnant buzz.   "I can even tell you which night it happened," he recounted.   I won't go into all the details, but yeah, that was an awesome night.   I then started to think about Amber.   She was not yet four years old and now she was going to be a big sister.  Luckily she loved babies, but would she love the baby that might be stealing some time with Mommy away from her?   Now would not be the time to tell her - it was too soon.   It was way too soon to tell anyone.  I usually like to wait until past the three month mark to be sure and that seemed like a long way out.  I was at best maybe four weeks along - just 10% of the way there and another 36 weeks to go.   I always felt bad for people born in December - they seemed to get gypped out of presents and I was determined not to let the happen to this little to-be.   I drove home in a bit of a daze - a very different person then when I had left the house.   Max met me and gave me a hug.  Amber just wanted me to have a  princess tea party. 

I went to my OB-GYN, a woman who seemed really nice especially because I had insurance.   Things seemed to be going well until we got a call from the insurance company asking if I had given birth.   No, it had just been a couple of months since we found out and I was nowhere near delivering.    Apparently, the doctor's office knew there was a maximum to what the insurance company would cover and put in for the delivery in advance to make sure they were covered.   That didn't seem right and we called the doctor's office who assured us that this was their normal procedure.   We decided to change to another OB - one that had nurse mid-wives so I still had a women's touch during this time and only saw the actual OB a few times.   The pregnancy progressed normally until I had an alpha-fetal protein (AFP) test done which came back a little low.   I had a feeling that they had taken it too early.  I was being pressured to have an amniocentesis done (that's when they stick a large needle into the pregnant belly take out a small sample of amniotic fluid to test for abnormalities).   My gut instinct was that it was a wash - the chances of them finding anything wrong versus endangering a health fetus didn't make sense.   I decided not to do it much the dismay of June, one of the mid-wives who I secretly hoped would not be there when it was time to deliver.   She was a Debbie Downer - always letting you know the negative side of things.  They did another AFP test a week later and it came back normal. 

Unlike my pregnancy with Amber, I did get nauseous in the afternoon which is when I was teaching after school acting classes in a few local elementary schools.  I remembered the advice of my country Cuban doctor from Miami and kept some fruit Lifesavers with me to cut the acid.  It worked most of time although there was one class where I prayed another adult would be standing by in case I needed to run to the bathroom and toss my cookies during class.   I managed to keep it together and was hoping that these afternoon attacks would pass quickly.   

At the three month mark, we told Amber that we were going to have a baby and that right now it was in Mommy's stomach.   She patted my stomach and said "Hi, baby."   I told my parents on a trip to Tallahassee to see my sister and her family.   I snuck a picture of the ultrasound in with some pictures I had taken of Amber.    My parents and sister were so excited and showered Amber with all sorts of praise for becoming a big sister.   It's hard to know what a four year old understands, but if having a baby meant you got hugs and new toys, then this second kid thing was not turning out to be that bad. 

As time wore on, I got bigger and bigger.  First I got big in my boobs which is always a bonus, especially for the fathers.  Then the fifth month hit which is when you don't have a prego belly yet and people who don't know you're pregnant try to be nice about the fact you've put on some weight and no longer have a waistline.   At the six month mark it's pretty obvious you're pregnant.  When I hit six months, I looked huge.   Not just from the side, but all around.   It didn't really hit me until I was shopping at Pea in a Pod, a maternity store with Amber and happened to see my behind in not one mirror but three at the same time.   I gasped and said "Oh my God, my ass is huge."  Amber started to laugh, ran out of the dressing room and in the middle of the store shouted "Oh God, huge ass!"  I managed to put a robe on to get her to come back into the dressing room as a room full of sympathetic women looked on.  "Don't worry honey, I think you butt looks just fine," said an older sales lady which was reassuring and creepy at the same time.  

Since this was my second baby, I was acutely aware of the fact that he or she (I never found out the sexes of my children before hand - call me traditional - I liked to be surprised) might come very fast.  Since my hard labor with Amber was only 26 minutes I was afraid to sneeze.  At this point, I was working for as a marketing director at an Atlanta theater which just made my phobia about delivering while driving on I-85 even worse.   As my delivery date got closer, I tele-communuted - attending staff meetings via phone and e-mailing press releases and media packages to the office for approval.    Worse, I kept on thinking I was in labor when I wasn't and dragged Max to the hospital twice in the middle of the night only to be turned away empty handed and still very pregnant. 

My parents came for a visit and I felt like I could relax because if I went into labor, there was someone to look after Amber.   I had already gotten her stickers that said "Amber is a Big Sister" for her to hand out to her Pre-K class and a big sister t-shirt.   It was getting to be the first week of December and her assignment for school was to have her family talk about about holiday traditions on audio tape.   It was really sweet and while were reading The Night Before Christmas with Mom, Dad and Max, I felt a little contraction.   I didn't say anything since I had lugged Max out of bed twice before to go to the hospital - so I kept my mouth shut until about 2:00 a.m. when they seemed to be pretty regular.  I woke him up and told him I was pretty sure this was it.    We got my bags (they were packed and I had a fresh pedicure this time) and we headed through the snowy night to Gwinnett Medical Center.   We got there and were met immediately but June, my least favorite mid-wife.   She asked me if I had ever gotten the amino to which I answered with a very curt "No, and what difference does it make now?"   That probably was not the right thing to say but I was very uncomfortable.   She decided not to give me much in the way of pain killers (I had one little dose of something that dulled the pain for about 20 minutes and then wore off).   Luckily another midwife showed up so it wouldn't be all June in the delivery room.   

The midwives both left Max and I in the room while they consulted and I remember being aware of the fact that giving life was very much like death.   I was in intense pain and when it was all over, things would be very different.  My life would never be the same.  I also thought I saw an angel hovering near by which was very comforting.   

Then came the time to push without an epidural like I had with Amber so it was full on painful - take no prisoners child birth.   I prayed that this baby would be as fast to push out as Amber.  The pain and the burning were intense. I was trying to take yoga breaths while I was pushing.   I was looking at everyone's face when they told me the head had just come out.   The cord was wrapped around the neck and the baby looked very pale.  June informed Max that he wouldn't be able to cut the cord - to which he replied "That's fine just do it!"   They cut the cord and he was finally delivered - my little Daniel was finally here.  However, his APGAR score was around 2 or 3 which meant a baby in distress.    They called the NICU nurses in.  Max felt like if we had let them take him away, we'd never see him alive again.  He asked if he could hold the baby's hands which they allowed  him to do.    Max, who is a Reiki Master (Reiki is a form of energy healing) held Daniel's hands and gave him the biggest shot of Reiki he's ever done.   Max's eyes were closed for maybe a minute when the nurses said "Mr. Grimm, you can let go now," just as Daniel took a big breath and started to cry.   He turned a healthy pink and he even had enough strength to do his first official act of defiance - which was to pee on everyone standing around the table.  His level of trajectory was very impressive.   

The look of relief on Max's face was immeasurable.   I got a chance to see him and touch his little hands before they washed him.   He had strawberry blond hair and weighed in at 8 pounds 14 ounces, but they weighed him after he pissed, so I say it was closer to 9 pounds since I delivered a full bladder.  Then, I finally got to hold him.  He was the most beautiful baby boy I had ever seen and nothing could ruin this moment, with one exception.  June, always the bearer of good news, mentioned that his second toe was bigger then his big toe on his right foot which could mean it was a sign of mental retardation.   I smiled and pointed to my manicured feet which both had second toes which were bigger then the big toe.  "I guess it hereditary and by the way - my IQ is 128 - just 12 points from genius - I think we're good."  

Later that day, a pediatrician came to look at Daniel and true to form, he tried to pee on the doctor as well - to which the good natured physician remarked "That is the most ambushing kid I've ever seen."    Amber came by with my Mom and Dad.  We had a present from the baby to give Amber which was a Mermaid Barbie that she'd been wanting for a long time.  She immediately tore the box open and started to play with it.   She gave Daniel a little mobile that converted into a baby musical toy.   She smiled at her new baby brother and patted his head.  "Nice baby," she said.   To this day, they still get along amazingly well. 

Christmas came three weeks later in the year 2000.    When people asked me what I wanted for Christmas I replied, "A healthy baby."   I got my wish and I've been very grateful ever since.   December 5th is definitely a day that will live in infancy. 

The Birth of a Notion - Part 1

When Max and I got married we knew we wanted children.  I had come from a big Irish Catholic family with five kids and he was an only child.   He knew the stories about me about growing up:  seven people in a 22 foot Holiday Rambler trailer parked on Fort Myers Beach managing not to kill each other during the hot Florida summers.  The time my mom and sisters took a cruise to the Bahamas.  The image of my sister Sharon and I sitting my Dad's lap and saying at the same time - "Aren't you glad we married you?"  For the both of us, it seemed like having a family was part and parcel of saying "I do."   When we decided to get engaged and did our pre-martial surveys (which you had to do before you got married at St. Louis Catholic Church) our compatibility was 90% which was very high.   When we did our conference with Father Fetcher, Max mentioned that that he wanted to have six children which was news to me.  I was thinking more around three - but the good news was that we both wanted kids - the number was negotiable. 

We had been married for about three years and had dealt with Hurricane Andrew and the death of both of Max's parents when we decided to get pregnant.   Our marriage had been tested any number of times and yet there was no doubt in my mind that this was the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.   We were ready to welcome a third person into our family - someone who would bring light  to two people who already knew how to keep love alive even under the most trying circumstances.   I never really worried about whether I would get pregnant.  My mother was pregnant seven times and had five kids and both of my sisters got pregnant without a problem.    Interestingly enough, our favorite show "Mad About You" had Jamie Buckmann trying to get pregnant at the same time.   I bore a pretty good resemblance to Helen Hunt and seeing her struggle each week trying to get to pregnant made me wonder if it would go the same way for me.  

The first month we tried it seemed like it would be pretty easy.  Fertility seemed to run in my family.  In addition to the two children each of my sisters had, my brothers both had four kids.   My period was late that month and I was sure I was pregnant.   I brought two pregnancy kits just to be sure.   I peed with a certain resolve in the morning hoping that the strength of my urine would give me the result I wanted.   The pregnancy tests were negative that month and the next month.    Jamie Buckmann was having the same problem and I began to worry that getting pregnant might not be the slam dunk I hoped it would be (no pun intended).    I had been taking pre-natal vitamins for six months and had given up caffeine which I heard could interfere with fertility -  so there I was all full of extra vitamins and without a Diet coke or a colada of Cuban coffee in sight which just made me grumpy.  

When it was coming up on my third cycle and two months of trying - I couldn't take it any longer.  I didn't want to have another month of disappointment so I told Max we could go to the drug store and get a pregnancy test and a Diet Coke.    That way it was a win/win - if I was pregnant, we'd celebrate and if I wasn't I'd have the caffinated diet soda I'd been jonsing for.   We walked to the mall from our apartment.    Max decided to wait outside while I got the tests.    A little toddler came up to Max, put his hand on his knee, pointed and hummed while shaking his head.    He said nothing else and his mother called him back over to him.   Max knew at that point I was pregnant - but let me pee into a cup anyway just to get that second opinion and probably to see if I could do it.   That night we knew that Amber was on her way. 

My pregnancy rolled along nicely.   No complications - no need to call the doctor.   I had my pregnancy books and "What to Expect When You're Expecting" at my bedside and another copy at the office.    I used to watch "ER" around that time but after the episode when a pregnant women died of very high blood pressure I decided to stop watching right then and there (it didn't matter how hot George Clooney was).   My doctor marveled that I was only one of a few of his patients who didn't call him hysterical after that episode.  

Of course there were awkward pregnancy moments, like when I would misjudge my fetal girth and knock over displays in the grocery store.  It got to the point where Publix stockmen would follow me around and get me whatever I needed to keep me from pushing over  another carefully arranged display of Little Friskies.    As my stomach continued to get bigger, my coworkers would stop mid conversation watch my belly as it would shift from side to side as Amber's butt tried to find a comfortable place to rest in uteral - her once roomy mansion in the first trimester was becoming a broom closet in the final weeks.  

We went to pre-natal classes, breast feeding classes (which at that point is all theory until you have a real baby and the milk-filled boobs to really get the hang of it), baby proofing classes and delivery classes.   I had read at least four books on the subject so I should have had everything in place by the time my due date was supposed to arrive.   However, as the big day drew closer, I kept putting work before packing the all important suitcase.   The nursery was done, the baby showers had been completed (one just a few days before I delivered) but still it was surreal to think that we'd have a baby in the house.   I knew she was in there - I just couldn't really conceive of her ever coming out.   I was due on July 1st and it was June 23rd, which meant I had at least three more weeks since no woman in my family - not my mother, two sisters, aunts or cousins had ever delivered less than two weeks late.  I figured I still had time.   That night I was going to pack my bag and the bag of the little to-be but decided to work on some volunteer applications for Children's Home Society.   It was a Sunday night and I really had to get the applications processed so that I could do the volunteer orientation later that week.   At that point and time, work seemed way too important.   I was up until after midnight and then went to bed -- to our full size mattress which me with my 42 inch waist and my 6'3" husband Max all shared.    In my third trimester, I would try to spoon with Max only to have him say, "Bear, I'm getting kicked in the back."   Nighttime was the right time for a womb party as far as Amber was concerned. 

I went to bed, and woke up a few hours later feeling some wetness around my legs and nightgown.    I got up wondering if my water had broken only to see that it was blood.  Not just a few drops, but enough for a Friday the 13th movie.   I tried to stay calm and was really pissed that I had not packed.  "Max," I yelled as calmly as I could, "We have to go to the hospital - I'm bleeding!"  Max woke up and looked at my side of the bed and knew immediately that something was very wrong.   He got my OB-GYN on the phone and he told us to go to Doctor's Hospital.   I was not in pain, I was just very scared.  Max tried to help me pack and at that point I was not thinking clearly and told him to pack a hair dryer and make-up before anything else (because at a time like this - good hair was really important).  He told me to change, get in the car and he'd come back later to pack.    We got to the hospital and had tests run.  The best that anyone could figure is that I had a biopsy years before and when my cervix started to dilate, the biopsy opened over a blood vessel.  The bleeding was all external - the baby was fine.   My doctor decided to induce that night anyway-  a week early so that we could make sure that Amber was alright.    I began to panic - I was sure I had another three weeks - all the women in my family did and I still had so much to do. 

I tried to beg off painkillers as long as I could until a nurse told me that "We don't give medals for natural birth" and having something to take the would feel good.   I decided to go with an epidural and had the weird sensation of not having any feeling from the mid-back down.   At that point, I was as floppy as a rag doll and around 3:05 p.m. I started to push even though I couldn't feel anything.    At 3:26 p.m. on June 24, 1996, Amber Rose Grimm took her first breath and at the same time I felt like I had broken through the surface of the water and was taking my first breath too - as a mother.  They handed me this perfect little infant and the reality of being a mom still had not hit me yet.   How could something so amazing come out of my body?   How did Max and I manage to make something so miraculous?   Why had I not given myself a pedicure because for hours I had nothing to do but stare at my nasty chipped toenails?  

The next day, we went home as a family - this tiny stranger, Max and I.   The reality of being a mom set in which included the sleepless nights and the incredibly large lactating boobs that would make a Vegas show girl jealous (yes, there is an upside to breast feeding).  The old perception that I was only responsible for myself was gone forever when I first held my baby girl and let her wrap her little fingers around my pinky.   I had broken through the surface and began to live anew.   Motherhood was no longer a theory or concept anymore - it was real.   June 24th was the birth of that notion.