First Baby

Chris was born 2 weeks before my 19th birthday. I was so young. Bruce was so young. We had moved from a furnished apartment (furniture AND roaches) to an apartment above a hardware store in Athens, MI. No furniture - only walls painted a naty bruise purple.
It was late August when we moved from one second story apartment to another second story apartment. Bruce and I did the moving ourselves. Up one set of stairs, down them. Up another set of stairs, down them. All Saturday. The only furniture that we had at the time was a bed, T.V. and lawn chairs. Fortunately there were appliances in the apartment for us to use.
Sunday we had attended church - both sessions, had dinner and were watching T.V. when my back started to hurt. I wasn't due for 2 weeks, and according to my Dr., I was not going to give birth early.
My backaches were in spurts. Bruce thought he would be funny and time them. Darn, but they were getting closer together! We had no phone at the time. In today's world, expectant mothers are prepared for signs of birth. Not me. Not then. I had no idea what was going on. My Dr. was a small town general practitioner who didn't inform, just checked. Get this - I didn't even have his phone number!
When the pains got hard and started to radiate to the front of my body, Bruce talked me into getting into the car and we drove to a phone booth. It was after 11:00p.m.
I remember the conversation with the operator like it happened yesterday:
"Operator."
"I need to get the phone number for Dr. Stewart."
" I'm sorry, that number cannot be given out."
"I need that number. I think I'm having a baby."
"You THINK you're having a baby? You don't know?"
"No, I don't. I've never had one before, but I think I'm in labor."
"Just a minute."
The next thing I heard was Dr. Stewart's voice advising me to go to the hospital.
We got to the hospital and was admitted.
Poor Bruce. I was hollering so loud that his face turned ghostly white. I would put my hands on the top of my head and scream and he would gently take my hands off my head and try to comfort me. That was o.k. for a short while, then I had had enough! I punched him in the face.
Today we know that I had entered 'transition' and that no woman is sane during that time. Again, poor Bruce.
Dr. Stewart got there and in we went to the delivery room - the Dr., nurses and me - not Bruce. He had to wait in the father's waiting room. He was o.k. with that.
I had been given some medication, so the pain were tolerable. Dr. Stewart said I could watch the birth in the mirror if I wanted to. The mirror must have been at least 6 inches in diameter. I had a hard time seeing the mirror let alone what was being reflected.
My whole labor lated 2 and 1/2 hours when a sweet little baby was laid on my tummy. Dr. had used forceps, so he had two black eyes and a crooked nose. I didn't care. He was perfect in my eyes.
When I was wheeled out of the delivery room Bruce met me in the hallway before I was taken to recovery. He was still very upset. He saw the baby and was totally in shock. He was a father.
I was in heaven. The pain didn't matter any more. I had a beautiful baby boy.
It took Bruce over an hour to get home. He was so upset that he got lost. He had traveled this road for years, but that night everything was different. A new life, a changed life.