My Sister was Born in the Car

If you know anything about me, you know that the first birth I was present for was the birth of my sister.  You may or may not know how that happened.  It's your lucky day, because I'm going to tell you.


I was eight years old and my mother was pregnant.  I prayed for the birth every night.  I prayed that it would be quick and easy.  That it "would not hurt a bit or burn a bit."  I had asked my mom what childbirth feels like and she said it was more of a burning sensation.  I wanted a painless birth for my mom.  And fast.  I wanted my baby sister here as soon as possible!

She was due on Thanksgiving, so after a night of trick-or-treating (and apparently some heavy meatloaf), we went to bed expecting to wake up just normal as always.  My dad woke me up before 6am.  He said the baby was coming.  I was pretty sure this was a joke, but decided to get dressed just in case.  I pulled on this purple-striped outfit that had a skirt sewn on.  Both the shirt and stretch pants were horizontal purple and white stripes, and there was a purple square on the shirt that had some fruit on it.  I remember thinking it was ridiculous even for an eight-year-old, but it was the next outfit in line, so I wore it anyway.

Meanwhile, my mom was standing outside at 6:15am trying to decide what to do.  She had woken up at 5am with really bad gas.  Probably from the meatloaf she ate last night.  "Ugh, meatloaf sounds disgusting right now," she thought. Funny thing about the "gas pains," they were kind of rhythmic and much more uncomfortable than typical gas.  More like... hmm... contractions?  That couldn't be it, this baby isn't due for three weeks!  She called her neighbor who was pretty intuitive about these things.  "It sounds like labor," she said.  At this point, she woke up my dad who moved everything into action.  And moved my mom outside.

So she was standing there, trying to decide what to do, the neighbor carefully watching.  She thought, "it must be too early to go to the hospital."  A contraction came and my mom made a face that told the neighbor they needed to GO. NOW.  Transition was imminent, if not upon us already.

Just then, my dad burst out of the house with all three kids.  We filed into the backseat of our 2-door Ford Tempo and Nathan was buckled safely into the car seat.  I was pretty proud of the shoes I had chosen to wear.  My cheerleading shoes that I got to choose what color triangles to put in.  I had chosen purple and red.  My favorites!

My mom was on her hands and knees in the front seat facing toward the back.  She stared at my shoes while contractions began coming one after another, right on top of each other.  "If mommy makes noises," she said, "it's ok.  Mommy is okay!"  She did not make any noises.  We were sitting at the longest traffic light in the world.  It took all her strength to get off one hand so she could reach up, grab my dad's shirt and exclaim, "my water broke!" Fortunately, there was a gas station entrance right where we were "parked", so he pulled in.  With one gutteral groan from my mother, baby Michela was born on the front seat.  6:48am.

My mom lifted her up and said, "it's a girl!  The sonogram was right!"
I rolled my eyes.  I already knew it was going to be a girl.  She was finally here!
Nathan said "Mommy say cough cough and baby come out!"