BANANNA SPLIT DELIVERIES

So after the 4th false labor trip to Portland we were getting kind of bored with the whole process.  It went something like this.  Labor pains become 5 mins apart.  Start old VW by pushing it down the hill and popping clutch.  Drive to Portland. 

But the drive to  Portland was only a small portion of the ritual.  Since I was a gestational diabetic I had strict dietary guide lines that I was told could end when the pregnancy did. Since Baskins Robins was on the way and since we had been really strict diet wise during the pregancy it was decided that before we actually delivered, we would celabrate with a bananna split extravaganza!   (We knew the hospital was very strict reguarding how many calories could be eaten in the day and one BSplit would be the entire days fare)

Full to the brim with comfort food, we would arrive at the hospital ready for the next adventure only to have the contractions stop!  My husband was begining to think I was holding out for the chow! We were up to our 9th trip in the Bug and decided to make the routine stop for the um, healthy bannanas.

Certain that the 9th time was the charm we took our full and content selves up to OHSU.

By the time we were admited, my water had broken and contractions were going full throttle at less than 5 minutes apart.  We were ready! Hub donned the green paper fashion garments and prepared to snapp the gloves on when notified. I was poked, prodded, wired for sound and placed in an indecent hospital garment.  Oooh we were really jazzed!  Waiting for the next contraction to arrive on time we all gazed at the clock.

Seven minutes went by befor another one hit.  And with less intensity then the last. Can’t argue with that little graph on the machine.  Nurses, doctor and husband all looked at me with the same comment in their eyes.   “Would you stop that for crying out loud and get on with it?!”

“Look you guys it’s not my fault!  I’m  5 centimeters dialated, my water broke, and I’m 3 weeks over due! You figure it out! ”  The doc scratched his head and reviewed my chart. “You know,” he began slowly, “it says here you are diabetic and high blood sugar can stop labor,  so how about we test your blood sugar and you write down everything you’ve had to eat in the last 12 hours.”    He walked away to get the phlebotomist and my man and I looked at each other and whispered, “Uh Oh!”

I wrote every good thing I had eaten that day on the list in large letters.  Hub leaned over and said in a whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me high blood sugar stopped labour?! This is our 9th trip up here for cryin out loud!”   “Don’t you whisper at me in that tone of voice!,”I whisper/yelled back. “I DIDN’T KNOW IT EITHER”   “What are you going to put on that paper?”he asked me, leaning over.   “I’ve put all the good healthy foods I’ve eaten in a list like this….”   I began.   “Man you eat alot when your pregers!” he blew a quiet whistle.  “SHUT UP” I said out of the corner of my mouth.   “If you had eaten my other half of the bannana split like I asked you to we wouldn’t be in this mess…” I began. The doctor came in clearing his throat and asked if I was ready to get my blood drawn.  “Sure,” I said, as I finished my list by writting Bannana Split in teensy weensy letters at the bottom of the page.

Mr WetBehindTheEars youngster doctor drew my blood and sent it off to the lab. “Now,” he said, “lets take a look at that list while we wait for the results.” Hub and I hummed quitetly to ourselves and generally tried to avoid making eye contact.

He read calmly for a while, then looked up at me over the top of his glasses. I grinned. Crossing his legs, he pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes in a very tired way.  “Tell me seriously now,” he said, “is a bannana split really on your dietary guidelines?” “Well,” I said, trying to look sheepish enough, “bannanas are good for you.” 

That night, little Melody was born weighing in at 9 lbs and 4 and 1/2 ounces.  And the round, fat cheeks on that kid were to pinch for!  Must have been all them bananas.