A BABY STORY: I’ll do anything to get outta going to work.

As I look back over my life, I've always been hard working when it comes to things I'm passionate about. As a college student, I worked at a local record store, overnights at my dad's radio station, and tutored kids at the elementary school up the street. When I graduated, I worked 3 jobs on 3 hours of sleep a night. Even working 7 days a week for a stretch. My friend once asked me, “What’s the point in having all the money in the world if you never have any time to spend it?” They were all broadcasting jobs, so I spent my time doing what I loved!

Pregnant with my oldest daughter, I decided to go back to school for nursing. Since the field was going to experience a shortage of staff, that’s a guaranteed, well-paying career. The entire pregnancy, I worked full-time, then waddled around the corner to my part time gig at Baby Gap. All while taking classes at city college 3 blocks from my house. (Keep in mind people, I didn’t have a car. I walked those 3 blocks plus all the way across campus and back.)

I said ALL THAT to say…I’ve never been allergic to work. Even pregnant. I worked up until delivery day on 3 out of 4. I had just started a new job at WCTV in Tallahassee when I found out I was pregnant with my 3rd child. I loved my job and was worried this would make them regret their decision to hire me (the other candidate was male.) I commuted 100 miles a day, worked 8 hours a day, and still had to take care of the girls (5 and 2 yrs old). I look back and don’t know how I did it sometimes. All the credit goes to my supportive husband and fabulous caretaker. I am so blessed to have them.

My co-workers enjoyed watching the pregnancy unfold. They pampered, spoiled, and teased me. Brought me food on every occasion. They were good to me, lol! I was growing exponentially in the last trimester. At church on Sunday, as I slowly tiptoed to the bathroom, it felt like the head was hanging at my knees. The baby had dropped. I overheard the pastor say, “I was worried she was going to have the baby right there while she was singing on the praise team!” Later that night, as I finished up the laundry, I felt my first pain. I’m not sure of my due date but I was clearly not ready because I left a desk full of unfinished work in my office. I anticipated coming back on Monday. I breathed deeply and asked, “Little one…can you please not come today? Mommy has a lot work to do. Just let me get to work tomorrow. Finish up. Then you can come out, ok?”

For a minute, I thought it was working. Then the pain got worse. I begged and pleaded with the little person in my stomach to wait. They weren’t having it. It was time to finish packing and wake up my husband.

I shook him and said, “It’s time.”

He said, “Ok.” Rolled back over and resumed his snorefest.

Really? I’m in labor and you ignore me! I continued getting the girls things ready for the sitter. Tried again. “Honey, I’m having contractions. It’s time to go.”

“alright.” Again, no sudden movements.

Now, I’m pissed. He’s really going to just lay there!

(Pubs has required that I put his side of the story in this blogpost. He says from previous experience and judging from the tone of my voice, he knew I wasn’t ready to go and he had a while to sleep before we heading to the hospital.)

He must’ve heard the urgency in my voice the third time I shook him (which had nothing to do with pain.) because he got up and started getting dressed. We made all the appropriate calls and loaded up the kids. Luckily, they weren’t in the car to hear the screams of torture along the highway. Something about the cool air hitting my face makes it better. So, I roll down the window with every contraction and let it rip.

Having learned my lesson from Ms. Lucy, I opted not to get any pain meds. I can take it. Apparently not. I was making such a scene that a nurse got all in my face,

“Ms. Long! You are going to HAVE to calm down!”

With definitiveness and certainty, I turned to my husband and said,

“Get her out of my face. Before I slap her.”

I was already frustrated with hospital staff because there’s a certain way I like to give birth. It worked so well with my oldest. Almost a squatting position. Makes a hell of a lot more sense then lying on your back trying to push sideways. Let gravity do its job. They denied my every request to sit up. I was looking for an excuse to fight.

A few contractions later…I heard the sweet cries of a newborn. Since I didn’t know the gender, I assumed I was having another girl. I sat straight up to see if my suspicion was correct.

“Is that a PENIS?!?”

“Yes, it’s a penis.”

I plopped back down on the bed. What am I going to do with a stinking boy? Needless to say, Pubs was ecstatic. Everything in the house, including the 2 dogs, was estrogen-producing.

He may look like my husband, but Solomon acts just like me – full of energy, big bright smile, and loves to make people laugh.

“Are you going to take Mommy to the prom?” I asked him when he turned 3.

“Yes, and I’m going to hold your hand and dance with you.”

How can you not fall in love with a kid like that?

My co-workers had all cashed in their bets on the baby’s gender and birth date. They laughed about how I could’ve had that child any day that weekend. But I expressly waited until Monday morning. I became the office joke:

KISHA WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET OUT OF COMING TO WORK,

INCLUDING HAVE A BABY.

#sahm #stayathomemom #workingmom