Labor Day

So here's the story I've been dying to tell.

This past Saturday I had planned to have lunch with two ex-companions. The three of us had a tight bond on the mission. We all served with each other at one time or another, and we also had the privilege of spending two p-days together in Rome, which doesn't often happen when you're not all companions at the same time and you're not serving in the same area. We were lucky that way. And one day, at the top of the Spanish Steps, we bought each other friendship bracelets and then tied them onto each other, announcing, "three knots for three friends at the top of the Spanish Steps." (The bracelets didn't last long---when our mission President saw them, he said that they were juvenile and had to go. So we replaced them with mature leather bracelets.) We always swore we'd go back to Italy together.

But fate intervened. Sidsel, the first of us to go home, started dating her zone leader. She married him soon after Clat got home from her mission. And then money and school prevented us from going too. And then Clat got married. So our plans of going to Italy pretty much fell through. But you get the point---we were close.

And Clat was close to her baby's due date last week, so we decided to all get together for lunch on Saturday before she popped. At noon, however, I got a phone call from Clat. I answered and asked, "So are you calling to cancel lunch because you're going into labor?" She said, "Well... kindof. I started having contractions, so I don't really feel like going out for lunch. I think I'll probably go into labor tonight." I asked if she'd like us to bring lunch to her, and she thought that was a great idea.

When Sidsel and I got there, the contractions were ten minutes apart. It wasn't long, though, before they were consistently three minutes apart. We kept questioning whether or not she should be going to the hospital (I even mentioned that I liked my shirt too much to ruin it by delivering her baby), but she said that her doctor said that if she could talk through the contractions, not to go in to the hospital. She didn't want to go just to be sent back home. So we talked a little more, or rather, I talked a little more, and realized that I'd been talking for a while. I asked Clat if she could talk, and she said, "I... don't.......... know." We suggested again that maybe she should go to the hospital, and she thought that was a good idea.

But we didn't leave before getting a picture all together. On our mission, we were all called to train at the same time, so we took the traditional "pregnant" picture. Now, we had a picture all together only moments before Clat left for the hospital.



We left Clat's house at 2:30. At 6:00, Clat called. I assumed she was calling to say that they sent her home. Instead, she announced, "Well. I had the kid." She went into the hospital at 3:00 and had the baby at 5:00. Two pushes and he was out.

I just have to say that I felt privileged to be with Clat in her last moments of pregnancy. Sidsel and I wanted her to name the baby Alma Julien, but apparently Clat didn't go for that. Well, she was always kindof a selfish witch anyway.


(Also, she has us to thank for looking so good in her picture because she did her hair and makeup before she realized that she wasn't feeling well enough to go out for lunch.)