This is the Storm

Twenty-one years ago, the first week of March, I was hugely pregnant with child number two, due in ten days. Big sister was a toddler of 17 months.

Steve and I hung out Wednesday night, as usual. Nothing about our world was different. There were no expectations. I hadn’t gotten to the point in the pregnancy where I was ready to birth out a baby. Child one arrived three days early. In my mind there was still over a week to go.

We went to bed, alarm set to wake us in the morning for another day of work.

Thursday I woke and found Steve already downstairs. He was facing the sliding glass door which opened to the tiny back deck off of the kitchen. The deck was covered in many, many inches of snow.

Julie, look at this!

I think my water just broke.

That’s how it went down. I think my water just broke. Why else would I be peeing in the living room on the carpet? Excitement?!

It’s a good thing that we were planning a home birth. We just had to figure a way to get the midwife from Dayton.

tbt big snow

It’s a good thing I have slow and steady, steady and slow labors. It would be a full day before that little, wrinkly, leathery old man would make his way reluctantly into the world.

But this is the storm.

It’s a little different today. Instead of waking to the ground covered with snow, I woke to thick rain hitting the windows. Then ice pellets changing over to heavy wet flakes and back to pellets.

It’s different because back in 1994 there wasn’t access to the technology that we have today, especially in our little townhouse-apartment. No TV, internet, nothing smart, not even a newspaper. Only talk radio that wasn’t listened to all that often. Certainly no anticipation of a weather event. No chatter and buzz.

School is closed today. Entirely.

That Thursday, March 3, 1994, was the first time that Good Shepherd School closed its doors for a snow day. By Friday the sun was shining and roads were clear. That part isn’t looking as promising this year, but by the weekend, I’m guessing, clear.

So we hunker down for another snow day; one of our last, I secretly hope. I try to relax and relieve the pressure I feel building inside and remind myself that sufficient for each day is it’s evil. And this isn’t evil.

My son turned 21 on Tuesday. It feels like yesterday that I was standing in the middle of a tiny living room, looking out at the tiny back deck covered in snow, excitement and fear mounting, wondering how the day would end.

It ended with me cradling a tiny person in my arms, both of us tucked into bed for our first night together.

In the snow. In March.

I wonder what this snow day in March will bring?

Thanks for heart-composting with me! I appreciate your words.