On Riverside Drive

Hall of Fame Labor and Delivery Story

Recently I took a short trip back to Buffalo, NY, a city of many fond memories for me. I lived there for eight years as my husband played hockey for the Buffalo Sabres, two of our four children were born there, and I got my B.A. from the State University of New York. This time though, it was about my husband. Phil was being inducted into the Greater Buffalo Sports Hall of Fame. It was a whirlwind two days, with trying to schedule kids and work so I could just get out of town for 48 hours. I didn’t pay much attention to our itinerary details. A little black dress, and people to tell me where to go…that’s all I needed. As far as I knew, Phil was the only one being inducted in the Hall. In hindsight, it might have been beneficial to have done my research.

Let me back up.

There is one memory that I have from Buffalo that I don’t like to recall, though at certain times, I’m forced to recant the story, usually when people are telling their “Oh ya, well my Labor and Delivery was so horrible…” stories. I always win. It’s a hard story to top. I had almost forgotten it, since most of my friends have passed their reproductive years and are now sharing Young Drivers with Permits stories. Yet, there it was again, front and center, when the cab passed Buffalo General Hospital, “The Birthing Story from Hell.”

Our second child wasn’t schedule for her C-Section delivery until the middle of April. I had plenty of time for preparation, yet she had her own schedule, and at the end of March, my water broke. So, early that morning, I woke my husband and said we had to get to the hospital. He also had other plans; one being that he had a game to play that afternoon against Mario Lemieux, and the Pittsburgh Penguins. His team was fighting for a playoff spot, surely I could understand. He drops me at the door of the emergency room and says, “Can you tell the doctor I’ll be right back? I’m just going to play this game and then we can have the baby when I’m done.”

“Ummm. Sure.”

“I won’t be long,” he says.

Long is relative.

The staff at Buffalo General got me all prepped for surgery and all I had to do was wait for the hockey game to get over. In the meantime, I’d just relax and watch TV. Problem was, the only channel the hospital could get was the NCAA playoffs…March Madness. So there I was, all prepped for surgery, watching some team, Duke, dribble their way up and down the court. Just me and Duke, until a third party stepped in…this baby with its own plans.

This child wanted out, desperately, and it was letting me know in volumes.

I called for a nurse to inform her that contractions had started, and could I get something for the pain, because I’m scheduled for a C-Section as soon as my husband gets back from his hockey game.

“I’m sorry Ma’am,” she says, as I’m writhing in pain. “No drugs. We can’t give them to you this soon before a Cesarean. You’re going to have to wait.” And then, she turns up the volume on the TV and says, “Watch this, and focus on the Duke! I love them! Go Duke!” Did she just say that? No drugs, and “Go Duke?”

Ah. Hello? Me, here! Baby! Pain!

Both male and female nurses would come in and out of my room, never looking me in the eye, and only at the television, screaming for a traveling violation or a three-pointer. I hated this Duke.

I did my best to focus on cleansing breaths and breathing patterns, only to be interrupted by loud cheers from the hallway. Damn Duke. If I weren’t hooked up to all the tubes, I would have walked right out into the hallway and punched ‘em all.

Both Duke’s basketball game and my husband’s hockey game went into overtime. “It should only be a little bit longer, Mrs. Housley,” the nurse shouted from the reception desk, as the contractions had me hurled up in a ball. I wanted to kill someone, anyone. I focused on the next person I saw, Christian Laettner of Duke. I picked him. I focused. He was going to die.

Instead of dying, he made some jump shot that set the hospital on fire, and has been talked about ever since. Duke won in overtime. Finally, I could get some attention. At the same time, my husband walked in, and they wheeled me off to surgery.

Things didn’t go as planned with the C-Section either. The drugs didn’t really work, and instead of numbing where it was supposed to numb, it froze everything else and missed that spot. So, three incisions were made, and I felt every one of them. “We’re sorry, Mrs. Housley, but we’re going to have to put you to sleep.”

As the mask was coming over my face, there were no last minute I love yous, only a, “If this kid’s a boy, we’re naming it effin’ Duke. It’s all their fault.” Labor can sort of mix you up like that.

Fast forward to today - people from Buffalo still call our beautiful baby girl, Duke.

So, last week, as we’re sitting in the limo waiting to be whisked off to the Greater Buffalo Hall of Fame Dinner, and I’m recounting the story with my husband. All the feelings came up again, the pain, the anger, the horrific (and mother of all labor stories) delivery, and effin’ Duke. The limo driver says it will be just a minute as we’re just waiting for another passenger.

Two minutes later, the tallest man I had ever seen steps into the limo. Christian Laettner. Duke. I almost died. Another Hall of Fame inductee.

Turns out, he’s from Buffalo. Explains everything.

Next time, I’m doing my research.

On a side note: This weekend's radio show, we'll talk with former Duke and Timberwolves Star, Christian Laettner and The Angel Lady. Tune in Saturday at 11:00 am on AM 1220.
 

Karin Housley is a realtor in the St. Croix Valley, a Wednesday Valley Life columnist and hosts a weekly radio show every Saturday morning at 9:00 on AM 1220 KLBB - or listen live via the web at klbbradio.com. You can email her at karin@karinhousley.com or visit her website at www.karinhousley.com.