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Leap of faith
It was never my intention to give birth to my daughter on a Leap Day.
No, no … she was my first child, and due w-a-a-a-y before that, 10 days to be exact, on February 19 of 1992. But displaying the tenacity and the desire to call the shots that would characterize every day since then, she decided to stay put.
And so it came to pass on February 29, 1992, I was still sitting there in Tampa, Florida – huge, grouchy and insisting to my visiting mother that the small dull pains at the base of my back were just that. She was of a different opinion.
"This can’t be labor – it can’t feel like this," I said. That was a pretty cheeky comment to toss at a mother of seven, wouldn’t you say?
Well, it was back labor and it did not go away. It got worse – much more widespread, MUCH more intense.
So while my husband raced to fix a water heater that had chosen that day to go kaput, my mother kept me in a reasonable state of calmness. That of course went to hell as soon as we reached the hospital.
Once we reached our birthing room, they asked me to go into the bathroom and change into a gown. I did this, accompanied by the unearthly howls of the first-time mother giving birth in the next room. She had insisted on no drugs! The fool!
I was starting to have second thoughts – maybe I wasn’t ready to be a mom. Maybe I couldn’t handle a baby.
But I came out of the bathroom anyway, and took my place on the small hospital bed. The doctor examined me and decided our little girl had turned completely around since my last ultrasound a week before.
“Looks like we’ve got a breech baby here,” the doctor said quietly.
Serves me right, I thought. I had pulled the same shenanigans on my mom 29 years earlier.
“OK,” the doctor continued, “we’ve got two options.”
“What are those?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Well, you can be in painful labor for hours and hours, then we can do a C-section,” he explained. “Or, we can just do the C-section, and cut out that first part.”
“Bingo,” I said. Well something like that … might have been more obscenities involved. Did I mention this labor thing hurts?
What came next was the epidural, obliging me to get into a pretty much impossible position not unlike a question mark. I was warned not to move. I was warned that if it got messed up, I could end up with a brain-crushing headache that would last a week … or worse. I didn’t move.
But when it was done and took effect … a numbing goodness flowed through me like a river, and I was able to get through a C-section filled with a lot of pressure but not too much pain.
My husband, Tom, was with me the whole way, and he was just fine, until he looked past the surgical draping that separated my top half from the business end. The nurses told him not to, which – if you know my husband at all – is as good as an engraved invitation. He didn’t look a second time.
Pain, uncertainty, scary moments – all present and accounted for that day. And all of it swept away the moment I saw our sweet little girl, all 9 lbs., 11 oz. of her.
Since 1992, my daughter has had only three real birthdays. The next real one will be this Friday, when she turns 16 (or four, depending on how you look at it).
We’ve learned to appreciate Leap Years and Leap Days at our house. Did you know Leap Day was instituted during the reign of Julius Caesar in 45 BC? Variations of Leap Day are found in the Chinese, Hebrew and Hindu calendars as well.
Those born on Leap Day are in good company, joining people such as Italian composer Gioacchino Rossini (“The Barber of Seville,” “William Tell”), General Montcalm (French & Indian War hero), William Wellman (the first Oscar-winning director), Jimmy Dorsey (Big Band leader and saxophonist) and rapper Ja Rule. Eclectic bunch, those Leaplings!
The Wikipedia gods also tell us that in some parts of Europe, it is a tradition that women may propose marriage only in Leap Years. Apparently there was a 1288 law, enacted by Queen Margaret of Scotland, that ordered the levying of fines if the proposal was refused by a man. They would have to compensate the woman, with anything from a kiss to a new silk gown.
In Greece, some still think it is bad luck for folks to get married in a Leap Year.
Back here in Leesburg, the Leap connection has been a good thing – a little reminder of the specialness of our girl, and of the particular leap of faith we took that February day 16 years ago.
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