The Moment

I am absolutely miserably unfathomably terrible at living in the moment. I recently read a wonderfully well said blog post on the implausability of constantly living in the moment, especially on this journey of SCR (small child raising). But I think there are extremes on either end, and while constantly berating yourself for not embracing Carpe Diem isn't ideal, neither are my incessant forward-thinking, future-planning, next-big-thing-anticipating tendencies. I blame this character flaw at least partially on the nature of medical training-- the past 26 (nearly 27, egad!) years of my life have been compartmentalized educationally into finite blocks of time, each with an identifiable endpoint and expectations of the next big thing. Graduate high school --> Get into college of choice --> Get into medical school of choice --> Start residency of choice --> Start fellowship of choice, etc. Success career-wise has to some degree been dependent on focusing on the goal one step ahead. But somehow along the way, I lost the ability to sit through a 2 hour movie without constant racing thoughts about what I can make for dinner that night or how to protocol the next day's fetal MRI or what we need from Costco. 

That being said, there are a few moments in life that are decidedly and unmistakably memorable. Even for the world's worst of moment liver-inners. 6:55pm on 12/29/2011 was one of those for me, and because I'm sure she'll ask at least once in her life, here is a concise version of the birth story of Elise Cabot Golding. Concise, of course, because I need to work on tomorrow's to-do list...

The day started routinely at work, I read out the ED films from the night before, read some ultrasounds, even started writing a Christmas blog post. Left work at lunch for a scheduled OB appointment with the  infamous last words, "Be right back!" Which of course, for any student of foreshadowing, means those were the last gravid words I'd speak to my co-workers. At the OB office, I offhandedly mentioned that I'd been having a few more contractions lately, but they weren't painful and didn't seem to be increasing in intensity or frequency. She checked me, declared 5cm and 100% effaced and suggested we hook me up to the monitor to see just what the contractions were doing. I have to admit, when actually lying still for 30 minutes, I did notice the regularity and frequency of the contractions. I guess I hadn't stopped checking things off the to-do list long enough to be aware (see the recurring theme?). The conversation went like this:

OB: You're contracting every 4-and-a-half minutes, dilated 5cm and fully effaced. You need to go to the hospital and have a baby.

Me: No, I need to go back to work and finish the day. We're short staffed for the holiday, you see. 

OB: Unless you'd like to deliver on Hawthorne avenue on your way back, or in the elevator, I think you should go on to the hospital.

So I went.

Once I got checked in and settled in my posh Labor and Delivery room, it was around 3pm. Thankfully your Dad was off that week so I called him and he made his way to the hospital. In keeping with tradition, we jammed to the Beastie Boys on his iPhone while anticipating your arrival. A couple hours later, the nurse decided to check again to see how far the OB could venture away before your arrival. 

At the risk of being too graphic for you (Mom embarrassing you already, go figure), upon feeling for my cervix she instead felt your head. 

"Don't. Push."

Doctor summoned, push, push, and there you were. 7lbs 12 oz, 20.5 inches long. I don't dare advertise your delivery story to many other moms, and looking back as I write this a few weeks later I wonder if the ease of labor was purely to mitigate the sheer and utter exhaustion your nighttime habits have brought to my once quasi-functioning self (debatable, I know). 

But regardless of how you made your entrance into this world, that very moment will forever be engrained into my mind-- every detail from the sweet sound of your first cry to the touch of your soft skin. For your dad, big sister, and me- life just became more complete. And in the one single moment, I became what God created me to be. 

Your Mama.