By Jennifer Reed
When I noticed the first pangs of labor, my husband and I raced through the crowded streets of Japan. Okay, raced isn't quite the right word. It was more like "turtled" through the streets of Japan. Our hospital was at Yokota Air Force Base, which was only thirty miles away, but usually took us two hours to get to. I was too scared to notice the woman he nearly hit, the dog he almost ran over and the shopping cart he swerved around, and too tired to care. I did notice that he managed to hit every red light and a few train crossings.
Finally we got through the gates of the base and to the hospital. My contractions had subsided so the hospital told us to return home and rest. It was a false alarm. As we left, I noticed a rather tall woman, very much with child, being admitted to the delivery ward. We smiled in passing and I headed out the doors.
I cried a lot on the way home. I was so scared and dreaded another drive to the hospital. But what really upset me was that I was going to have a baby, and I had no one else to share it with. I was lucky to have my husband there. His squadron had deployed on a four-month cruise two weeks earlier. The commander allowed Jeff to stay behind until our child was born, then he had to meet up with the ship. That upset me too, that my husband would miss the first four months of his first child's life; that I would be a single mom and have to deal with not only my
own recovery, but also learn how to care for an infant.
"If only I had my mom! Or your mom! Or some close
friends!" I sobbed to my husband. He felt terrible, but there was little he could do.
That night, the pains started again and grew in frequency. I kicked my husband awake and told him it was time to go. This time it was three in the morning. There was little traffic and we made it to the hospital in record time.
Sixteen hours and a difficult delivery later, I gave birth to a boy we named Eric. We were shocked, because the Japanese doctor who gave me an ultrasound a few months before said he was sure it was a girl. At least, we thought he said girl. While everything we bought was feminine, frilly and pink, we were thrilled that our Emma was really an Eric.
I was wheeled into my room, which I had to share with
another new mother, and Eric was whisked away to the
nursery. There was a curtain separating me from the other
mother but I could hear voices and the quiet gurgles of a
newborn. I lay staring at Jeff.
"Can you believe we have a little boy?" he asked all smiles. I smiled and nodded. Then the tears came to my eyes.
"What's the matter?" Jeff sat down beside me.
"I'm supposed to be happy. Our parents should be here to meet their first grandchild. Our brothers and sisters and best friends should be here." I felt my chin quiver.
"They'll see him soon," Jeff said. He bent over and kissed my forehead. "Should I call home?" he asked.
"Sure," I let out a big yawn. I couldn't move. My body ached. I felt like a Mack truck had hit me. And worse, the nurse would be in soon to get me up and to the bathroom. "They'll be surprised to know we had a boy."
Jeff picked up the phone. "What's your parents' number?"
I gave him the number and he called home to tell
everyone we had a baby boy. After he hung up I heard a
voice from behind the curtain.
"Excuse me," said someone quietly.
My husband drew back the curtain and we looked at the
tall woman I had seen earlier at the hospital.
"I heard you calling home and recognized the area
code," she started. "Are you from Massachusetts?"
"My wife is," said Jeff pointing at me.
"Where in Mass?" asked the woman.
"Oh, it's a real small town between Boston and Cape
Cod," I said.
"You probably don't know it."
"What's the name?"
"Norwell," I said.
The woman's eyes lit up and her jaw dropped.
"I'm from Norwell, too!"
I looked at her, my eyebrows scrunched tight. I didn't recognize her.
"What's your name?"
She told me and I immediately gave her mine. We stared at each other in disbelief.
"You're Kelly from South Street?" I asked. I sat up in my bed and straightened my hair.
"Yep. Can you believe this?" She was holding a small
bundle and rocking her arms back and forth.
"This is amazing," I said. Jeff and Kelly's husband shook hands. I had known Kelly since elementary school. We went through high school together until she moved away some time around our senior year. We didn't hang out together but had the same homeroom and many classes together. Now, ten years later we were having babies together on the other side of the world. She had grown quite tall since I knew her and her hair was different.
But when she told me her name I immediately recognized her.
Our babies were due on the same day, but both decided to
come late. Kelly had given birth to a beautiful baby girl
named Samantha.
The remainder of our time in the hospital was spent going through yearbooks, which our husbands dug up for us. We gave interviews to the base newspapers. No one could believe that two high school friends would be reunited in the delivery ward of a military hospital, half way around the world.
My prayers were answered, too. At the moment Kelly
spoke up, I was completely exhausted and filled with such
sadness, longing for a familiar face from home.
While my husband was shipped off two weeks later, Kelly and I kept in contact. Every Christmas I receive a card from her and Samantha, letting me know how they are doing.