Kathy woke up at 4 a.m. with contractions. The alarm went off at 6, and I woke up, hearing her mulling about in the bathroom.

She came out and told me she didn’t think I would be going to work. These contractions seemed to be the real thing. Seems the raspberry tea I had insisted we drink together the night before had worked.

I got up. Kathy wanted to get a shower and wanted to see the kids off to school. I had to type up some instructions and do a little work on some slides that would be needed at work that day.

The shower did not make the contractions stop. Kathy decided that we should go on a walk. We walked up and down the street, not venturing too far from the house. We didn’t want to have the baby on Rae Place. The walk didn’t make the contractions stop either.

When we got home, Kathy called Dr. Tate. He asked how short her shortest labor had been. Eight hours, she told him. He told us to go on in.

By 8:15, Nicole and Danny were packed up and ready to catch the bus. Each had a lunch box in hand, prepared by their mother who was in labor. With some difficulty, I was able to get my work transmitted in. We were all ready.

Kathy and I sat in rockers on the front porch, watching the kids stand across the street waiting for the bus. They knew they might have a brother or sister by the time they got home.

As the bus pulled away, Kathy said, “OK, we can go.”

I put the bags Kathy had had packed for weeks into my trunk. One of them was the labor bag full of things we had learned to use in our Better Birth class. As I was stuffing pillows into the car, Desere called from her driveway next door, “Have y’all had that baby yet?” (Desere has the same New Orleans voice as Mrs. Butker.) “We’re about to,” I shouted. “OH!” she exclaimed, “Well I’ll let y’all go.”

We left about 8:45. I took the scenic route along Lilburn-Stone Mountain Road. It was a very sunny and cool day. Between contractions, Kathy enjoyed the ride.

Since up to this point, Kathy had kept to herself about her contractions, I figured it was time she let me in on what was going on. I told her to let me know when the next contraction began and when it ended, so that I could have some idea of what to compare later contractions too.

She let me know at exactly 9:01 that one was beginning. It stopped exactly 60 seconds later at 9:02. We were on the Stone Mountain Freeway at that time.

Kathy blurted out “Turn right!” as I almost turned left off Lawrenceville Highway. I thought the hospital was on the LaVista side of Lawrenceville Highway. I crossed 3 lanes in 10 feet to make the right turn. Otherwise, I provided a very smooth ride.

At 9:07, Kathy and I stopped in the hospital hall just around the corner from the maternity ward. “I need to cry,” she cried to me. “I did this with Danny,” she said through her tears. I hugged her, and asked her if she wanted to go home and do this later. I knew if I treated her too seriously, she would treat herself more seriously, and we might not make it the next 5 steps. She laughed at herself as she cried. “As soon as I’m done we can go on.” She wiped her tears on my Donut-Hole t-shirt.

At 9:10 we walked around the corner to the same part of the hospital where we had been the night of Mom’s birthday party. The same nurse was at the desk. We were expected. A room was prepared. Kathy was in a bed by 9:20. The nurse, who had told us we were not ready last time, was surprised at 9:23 to find out how far along Kathy was. “Five or six centimeters,” she said. She then rushed from the room to catch Dr. Tate, muttering something about his car phone. Kathy was doing fine.

Another nurse suggested that I sign us in at the admissions desk. Kathy said she was ok. As I walked out, I found Dr. Tate coming in. We shook hands, and he went in.

I watched the admissions lady write “Kathleen Cashin, 9:30” in the registration book. She told me to have a seat. “She” would be right with me. “She” was another lady in admissions office #2. I sat down across from a very large Admissions Lady #2 with a very large stack of papers to fill out at 9:32. This was going to take a while. “Good morning, ” I said. “Good morning,” she said pulling the first form off the large stack, but then her phone rang. “Hello… yes… yes he is.. ok,” she hung up.

“You need to go to your wife right now.”

Panic.

I hurried back, passing Dr. Tate in the hallway again. “We’re going to deliver this baby now!” he exclaimed.

Kathy’s room was hustle and bustle. Things were being rolled out of the way while other things were being rolled into place. Tubes, wires, gizmos and hospital personnel were being shuffled all around the room. I just focused on Kathy, since no one else seemed to notice she was there.

“He broke my water,” she said. Her legs were trembling, and she asked me to rub them. I started rubbing, pulling towards her feet. It helped. She was not experiencing much pain, and there hadn’t been much water, she told me. She was very nervous.

I was positioned to Kathy’s right. A nurse was to her left, and Dr. Tate (who looks/acts like Groucho Marx with a yarmulke) started barking orders to everyone in the room. Neither Kathy, the nurse, nor I were quite sure who he was talking to. He was in a terrible hurry, though, so we all tried to comply.

At 9:44, Dr. Tate rolled in a post with a mirror on top to hold his goose-neck light. He had the nurse start positioning the bed. “Dad, you need to hold her leg in the crook of her arm… move the bed down more… lift the feet over and under… hold her foot with your other hand… make a fist… you’ll feel the foot go down… ” Some of the orders were to me, some to Kathy, some to Nurse #1, and others were random.

“I don’t want the mirror,” Kathy said to me on my left.

“She doesn’t want the mirror,” I said to Dr. Tate on my right.

“I need it to hold up my light,” he insisted.

“He needs it to hold up his light,” I said to Kathy on the left. “Is it angled so that you see?”

“I can see, ” she said, and she didn’t want to. The contractions were very strong. I’m not sure, but I believe there were several other people in hurrying around in the background. Dr. Tate was positioning Kathy, positioning the bed, positioning paper, legs, feet, lights, and the staff. There were a lot of things to tend to. As the only one tending to Kathy, I decided to take a stand.

“She can see,” I told Dr. Tate. “She doesn’t want the mirror.”

The noise level was increasing. I had forgotten everything I was supposed to do. I wanted to massage something, but wasn’t sure what I could massage at this point. We had skipped all the stages of labor.

Dr. Tate argued, “She can’t see with this angle. Usually they complain because I don’t get the angle right.”

“She can see!” I said. “Just move the mirror!”

Dr. Tate mumbled, and tilted the mirror to one side. I kept wondering why a gooseneck light needed a mirror to hold it up. I’m very proud that I kept this argument to myself. I believe Dr. Tate would have been glad to enter into a discussion on the issue.

“What did he mean about feeling the foot going down?” I asked Kathy on my left. (You wouldn’t know that mine, Kathy’s, and Dr. Tate’s ears were all within 4 feet of each other.)

“I don’t know,” Kathy returned equally concerned.

“What did you mean feeling the foot come down?” I asked Dr. Tate on my right. I was acting like a translator. “Are you talking about the baby’s foot?”

“Foot? What?” Dr. Tate said confused. “Oh, I was talking about the foot of the bed.”

“He was talking about the foot of the bed,” I told Kathy on my left. We were both relieved not to be having a breached baby at the last second.

Kathy told me in amazement, “There’s not a lot of pain, I’m just real nervous.”

“OK, push!” Dr. Tate told Kathy. The nurse and I helped bring her knees up. Dr. Tate did his thing. I watched Kathy. She closed her eyes, and was puffing, turning her head to the left side.

At 9:45 there was a head. Just like when there was a head when Danny was born. Only this time we had a lot more than one panicky nurse with us. We had a real doctor. “I need one more push!” he shouted over all the noise. “I need to get one shoulder out.”

“There’s a head!” I shouted to Kathy. Later Kathy told me she was glad I told her there was a head. She had no idea. I don’t know why there was so much shouting and so much noise in the room. Kathy was being very quiet. I continued to relay my English to English translations. “One more push to get the shoulder out, then your done!” Kathy gave one more vocal push. It was more of an athletic effort than a sound caused by pain.

At 9:46, Kelly Elizabeth Cashin made her appearance. “She looks just like Danny!” I told Kathy. I was totally amazed. I couldn’t believe it had all happened so fast.

Dr. Tate told me to cut the cord. I told him I didn’t want to, that he was the professional. He laughed and told me to go ahead, and then something about an inny or an outty. I had won the mirror battle, so he was getting even. I did the honors.

Dr. Tate played with Kelly for what seemed like a long time. She had a blue tint. He rubbed her, and shook her a little, all to get her blood circulating. He held her stomach down in one hand as he grabbed for a towel with the other. He flipped her over in his hand like a melon, and wiped her clean.

“Can Kathy hold her?” I asked him. He seemed to be having all the fun.

“Do you want to hold her?” I asked Kathy. Kathy was winded, but nodded yes.

[Update: It is almost 18 years later. Kelly just graduated from high school. I have no idea what happened to that big stack of papers, but thank you, Kelly, for getting me out of that.]