Over the Edge of My Mask

Back on December 31, 2019, I published a blog called “Who’s on First?” all about the firsts I had experienced recently, like eating outside at a restaurant and reversing directions without using my GPS and being the first woman to sing with the North Hills Harmony Line Chorus.

I ended the blog with the sentence, “I can’t wait to see what new opportunities 2020 holds.”

I could never have anticipated what was waiting for all of us in the coming year. A global pandemic.  THAT’s what 2020 had in store. I probably don’t have to tell you that this was the first time I’ve ever experienced a global pandemic.

To complicate this further I was running an essential non-profit organization when the pandemic hit.
Adding to the overall uncertainty and stress was the responsibility of rethinking the organization’s business model and putting remote systems into place to continue to provide much needed services while safeguarding staff, clients, volunteers, and the public.   It was also the very first time in my career that I used the Crisis Management and Emergency Public Relations that were the topics of my master's thesis. 

I had my first video conferencing call back in March.  Since then I have been on roughly 150,000 video calls and none of us have mastered the technology yet.  Other firsts?  I made no-sew masks from old t-shirt sleeves, wore masks in public, sanitized groceries and any other packages that came into my house, and ordered some groceries for delivery. 

Can I say this was the most stressful period of my life?  Not necessarily, but it certainly makes the top five.

Oddly, it has not been all bad. There is nobody I would rather be in quarantine with than Mr. Rip.  We have always been very fond of one another, but we found out we love living and working together from home, essentially co-existing 24/7.  We have started taking walks around our nice neighborhood for the first time.  I put together a designated office space in my home.  The weekly video chats with family members have been great.

But then things really took a bright turn when I received two unexpected calls that could not have been more welcome.

First, we received the news that our son and daughter-in-law are expecting their second son and our second grandson this fall.  We were overjoyed to hear of this new addition to our family and cannot wait to meet the little guy.

Then came the job offer.  For a full-time 32-hour-a-week position that would allow me to continue to work in my field with a professional salary and full-time benefits.  A four-day work week, no evening meetings, and all this a few years before reaching retirement age.  I can’t believe my good fortune, or my three-day weekends.

Life goes on, even in the face of a global pandemic.  There are good things happening to us now and waiting for us on the other side of this crisis. I still can’t wait to see what the future holds, even if I am looking towards it over the edge of my mask.

P.S.  Wear your mask, wash your hands, and vote.

 

On This Day My Child Was Born

It was February 13^th.  I was 8 ½ months pregnant and returning to work after my weekly gynecologist appointment.

My doctor said he thought I may come a little earlier than my February 28^th due date.  That was okay with me. I had had enough of the whole pregnancy thing- the tremendous weight gain, the sharp pain in my abdomen they called “heartburn,” the inability to sit, stand or sleep comfortably.  I really did Ache All Over. I was more than ready to have my baby.

Snow was beginning to fall as I headed back to work, but I wasn’t worried.  The roads weren’t bad yet, and my workplace was just four miles from my house.  Nonetheless, I was pretty happy when I arrived at work safely, just in time for lunch.

When I stood up after lunch, I felt an unfamiliar sensation.  I realized with a shock that my water was beginning to break.  I calmly called the doctor’s office, and they advised me to return to the hospital immediately.  I wasn’t able to reach my husband, who was making deliveries for his family’s business in a time before cell phones.  I left the message with his mother that I would go home and pack my bag and he could just meet me at the house.

I let my boss and my friend and co-worker Joan know what was going on and left.  I got in the car, turned the key and…the car wouldn’t start.  I had turned the headlights on when I was on my way back to work in the snowstorm and left them on.  My car battery was dead.

Okay, so now I was beginning to panic.
  

I found Paul, my co-worker with jumper cables.  Paul felt strongly that a woman in labor should not be driving herself anywhere, especially in the snow.  He refused to jump my car.  I explained that I just planned to drive the few miles to my house, and probably wasn’t even technically in labor.  Paul didn’t care.  He offered to drive me anywhere I needed to go.  I explained to him that this was my only car, and I could not leave it there, dead, especially if I actually had the baby.  Paul was adamant.  We argued for several minutes.  I was getting desperate.  I begged.  I cajoled.  I cannot swear that I didn’t at one point grab Paul by the lapels and yell “Jump the damn car, Paul!”   Finally, Joan,  a very persuasive person, intervened and Paul grudgingly agreed to jump my car.

I drove home and packed my suitcase but hadn’t heard from my husband.  I called the doctor’s office.  “WHAT??!!!,”  the nurse said, “You mean you haven’t even LEFT yet?”  The last professional I saw get this excited was the whitewater rafting guide after I fell into the Youghigheny River.  I thought better than to mention the dead car battery.  She asked how long it would take me to get to the hospital.  About 30 minutes when it wasn’t snowing, I told her.   “Oh honey,” she said, “You need to get here RIGHT NOW!”

I called my mother-in-law to tell her that I was leaving for the hospital and to tell my husband to meet me there.  She offered to come pick me up, but after my conversation with the nurse I didn’t think I should wait. 

My mother also offered to drive me, which was very sweet but not really feasible.  My mother was terrified of driving in the snow, and lived in Swissvale, which was just about an hour away from my home in Washington, PA.  It would have taken my Mom 2 hours or more to pick me up and take me to the hospital in the snow, and I was certain that Mom would not want to drive in the snow and deliver her grandchild herself, at least not on the same day.

It was snowing a lot harder now.  When I finally arrived at the hospital, I told the doctor that aside from my water breaking and driving 30 miles in the snow, I was feeling fine.  He examined me and informed me that I was indeed having contractions and I was “officially” in labor.  Perhaps I was in shock as I drove to the hospital in the snow, and therefore numb to the contractions, or perhaps I had unknowingly been employing those breathing exercises they taught us in Lamaze class.

Meanwhile my husband had arrived back at the shop.  He arrived in the birthing room about an hour after I got there, in plenty of time for the birth.

I will not share all the minute details of the labor and delivery, because I hate when women do that.  However, I will tell you that I had to have a Caesarian section because the baby was large, and my birth canal was small.  I only mention this because I want everyone to know that there is actually a body part of mine that is too small, ironically located inside my body where nobody can see it.

At 10:15 p.m. on February 13, 1985, my beautiful, brown-haired, brown-eyed baby boy was born, 8 pounds and 9 ounces despite coming 15 days early.  When they put him into my arms, I was smitten- crazy about the kid from the start.  Every bit of the pregnancy and that day had been worth it.

That baby turns 35 today, and is the father of a beautiful, happy, active 3-year-old brown-haired, brown-eyed son of his own.  Here’s wishing my son a wonderful birthday full of celebrations with his family, and better weather than the day he was born.

Through the Bathroom Door

One of the most intriguing features of our new house when we bought it 10 years ago was the fact that the house had two bathrooms, one for each of us.  We were ecstatic about the idea of having our own bathrooms. 

I realized that I had never had a bathroom to myself.  I grew up sharing one bathroom with five other people, and I went on to live in dormitories, apartments and three different houses where I shared one bathroom with the other people living there.

I was delighted with my new bathroom, which, despite being the shape of a small arrowhead, had everything I needed.  A full shower, a toilet, a sink, and an amazing oversized mirrored medicine cabinet. It would have been a perfect design but for one little thing.  The door opened into the bathroom, effectively cutting the room in half when it was open.

Why did the people responsible for designing this bathroom do this?  This is a question for the 
ages, one I have asked myself many times. It is a mystery, and we may never know the answer.

No big deal, I thought.  We could just turn the door around at some point.  That shouldn’t be too hard. It was the one and only change I wanted to make to the house.

But you can’t always get what you want.  It turns out that in my naivete regarding all construction-

related topics, I did not realize what a massive and difficult undertaking turning the door around
would be.  A succession of handymen and friends who know about this kind of thing explained
why that was so. It’s very complicated, but suffice it to say that it had something to with the way 
the frame was.  Turning it around would not only be complicated, but expensive, and we came to the conclusion that we might just need to buy a new door.

We agreed that we would indeed buy a door for the bathroom….someday.  Someday came and went, and there we were, 10 years later, and the bathroom door still opened into my bathroom.

So, when Mr. Rip asked me what I wanted for my birthday this year, I seized the opportunity.  “I want a door for the bathroom that opens out.” I said without hesitation.

“Okay,” he said, “but I will have to get you something to open that day.”

I assured him that would not be necessary.  “Just put a big bow on the door,” I told him.

Fast forward.  We found a carpenter who was able to turn around the existing door.  He completed the project while I was at work, so when I came home I rushed to see the door. This is what I 
found.

Mr. Rip really did put a big bow on it.  Of course, in true Pandora style I ignored the directive on 

the sign and opened the door immediately.  After all, my birthday was six weeks away.

It turns out that having the door swing out was just what my bathroom needed to make it all I’ve 

ever dreamed it could be and more.  The only thing better in the house right now is the guy who
put the bow on it.