Birthing Babies on the Fourth of July

Hello folks, and Happy Fourth of July week! Have a seat and let’s chat.~smile~

We’re all about Independence Day around here. Our celebration is always too big to be contained in one day! There are no rules stating you have to get sunburned and eat your weight in barbecue, fried corn, and peach ice cream. It’s just understood, or misunderstood. You make the call.

And speaking of misunderstanding, I’m reminded of a great reader letter I got in response to that little plumbing mishap I shared with y’all. I have permission to share, too, provided I change the names. Meet Opal and Jessie. They’re from a small town where Jessie serves as director of the Ambulance District. Occasionally, when the men have to work a holiday, Opal and Jessie will grill out and invite the guys to drop in whenever they have a spare minute. One July 4th, they were just pulling the barbecue off the grill when a call came in from the station— an emergency OB, someone was giving birth. This demanded urgency under any conditions, but their small hospital doesn’t deliver babies. With everyone aware that transporting the laboring mom to a nearby town only increased the odds that the wee one might decide to make a grand entrance in route, the crew rushed to the scene trying not to think about barbecue.

Arriving at the emergency address in record time, they backed the ambulance in, unloaded the stretcher, and headed for the door, where they found an elderly lady who looked quite puzzled. She got even more confused when they inquired about the birthing mother. “Fellows,” she said. “It’s just me here!” Jessie’s crew exchanged glances. “Ma’am,” one of the guys said, “Are you saying you didn’t call 911 and tell ‘em your water broke?” The sweet old belle shook her head, “Oh, I called ‘em. My pipes done burst and flooded the place. But my water— it done broke a long time ago.”

I understand the crew did eat barbecue that day, eventually. And the dispatcher— well, I think he got some cold ribs and some good natured ribbing. I get that. What with the holiday and all, I think it was the All American thing to do.

Hugs,
Shellie