Once upon a time I was a young pregnant woman closing in on my due date.
My son had mysteriously lost two quadrants of aminiotic fluid during my pregnancy so I was gently informed by my doctor to “Go home. Get your bags. Come straight to the hospital.”
I was a month early but the doctor decided the pregnancy was too risky and so she opted to induce me.
I was quite comfortable, even in active labor, until my water broke.
Then all hell broke loose.
I begged for an epidural.
The anesthesiologist came in, gave me a little test shot of painkillers into my spine and asked, “How do you feel now?”
I looked straight at him and said, “I have to PUSH!”
There was no stopping it.
If someone walked up to me with a million dollars on a platter, and offered it to me but only if I wouldn’t push, I still would have PUSHED.
I asked my ex-husband to turn on some music.
It was then that we discovered we forgot our labor music at home and all we had was the CD that was in the stereo – RESERVOIR DOGS.
PLAY IT ANYWAY!
“Lookin’ back on the track for a little green bag
Got to find just a kind or losin’ my mind
Out of sight in the night, out of sight in the day
Lookin’ back on the track, gonna do it my way”
I’ll never forget that my son Duncan was born after forty-five minutes of labor, while listening to Little Green Bag.
It certainly explains why my eldest son is such a wheeler, dealer, charmer and freewheeler.
He was born listening to Reservoir Dogs.
And the rest, as they say, is history.