By the time this blog posts I'll be on my way to my daughter's home for a short visit. My baby girl turns 39 on Saturday! I must have had her when I was 15 or 16, right? Actually I'm in my 60's so you can do the math.
Writing this turned my thoughts to the night she was born. During my pregnancy I was living in a small community in Northern Saskatchewan, with the nearest hospital 50 miles away. I had experienced premature labour in September. One of my bosses and his wife drove me to the nearest hospital where I was checked by the local doctor and the decision was made to air flight me to Saskatoon for further care. I believe I spent a week in the hospital before I was released and able to go back north. About the beginning of November, we decided I would go south to my parents home to wait for her birth. No one wanted a repeat of the early scare.
Of course, I then went nearly 10 days overdue before I finally went into labour on a Thursday morning. Mom drove me into town to the hospital where I laboured for close to 48 hours before the doctor decided it was time to get her out of there. I recall it was very early Saturday morning, when the doctors, including the anesthesiologist, arrived from their Christmas party in good spirits. Several of them, more than I think were needed, crowded into the operating room along with a nurse or two. D was slightly injured in the melee, receiving a small nick in her eyebrow, requiring a stitch. She reacted to this indignation by pooping. My aunt and mom saw her as she was moved from the OR to the nursery however I was out cold and didn't see my baby until three hours later, by which time she'd been cleaned up. Because of my surgery we were kept in the hospital for a week, and D was the only baby in the nursery for five days of that week. They didn't allow rooming in at that time, but I know that she was cuddled and doted on by the nurses when I didn't have her with me.
We stayed with mom and dad through Christmas, which was good for me as I was still recovering and baby D did not sleep through the night (until she was 6 years old). At least I could get a nap in during the day while mom kept an ear out for her.
Well, that wasn't how I planned to start this post, call it stream of consciousness or something like that. It strikes me I can remember so many details from that time, but not what I had for dinner two nights ago.
I've had a busy week puttering as I always do. I started the week planning to do the laundry on Monday but that was put aside while I did a bit of baking. The first batch of shortbread was made along with a batch of peppermint/vanilla cookies. These were green and white, since I had no red food coloring, and I'm sure they will be a hit with a little boy. While these were baking, I started a beef stew for dinner, so the oven got more of a workout when I made biscuits to go along with our meal.
Tuesday, I finally got around to the laundry and while the first load was in the washing machine, I decided the weather was warm enough to head out for a walk. It was just a degree or two below freezing, and bundled up it was quite nice.I was disappointed to find that the paths hadn't been well cleared, and were quite icy in spots. Most of the time, I walked on the snow next to the path, as I did one of those slip and slide, but didn't fall down at one point.