Each year, on her birthday, I call her at 7:06 am, the time she was born. When I was pregnant with her, I was working at Holiday Inn in Gainesville. I had been a server, but when I became pregnant, the food and beverage director pulled me aside and told me I could not wait tables when I was pregnant - it just wouldn't look good. They told me that I could be a hostess.
I didn't know much then, but I knew this was illegal. I filed a complaint with the EEOC ( I forget what it stands for at the moment), and I consulted an attorney. It ended up that I won the complaint, which meant they had to give me back pay (it might have been $300 back then), and Holiday Inn was also admonished that they could not retaliate against me - meaning, they had to treat me nicely from then on in.
Boy, they didn't like that one bit. The one guy, his last name was Bolno, would come to the restaurant every once in a while, and he would make a report on what he had observed. The manager at the time, who liked me, and was disgusted by what they had done to me, showed me one of the reports. In it, Bolno singled me out, and said that although I appeared to be taking care of my tables, I was "grossly overweight." This was shortly after I returned to work after having my beautiful Annette.
Bolno didn't last much longer at the Holiday Inn. I have always fantasized about really telling him off - and have hoped that karma caught up with him at some point in time.
But enough about that. My beautiful Annette.
I had been hostessing Thanksgiving Day - all freakin' day. It was so busy. At the end of the day, I walked into the kitchen and - wouldn't you know? it was right in the middle of a roll fight. One of the servers was in the middle of a lob, and it hit me in the neck. I burst into tears, because I was emotional, not so much because it hurt, and the server felt so bad.
By the time I got home, it was about 9 pm, and I was tired, but I was keyed up. I tried to sleep, but I kept having pains. Thought it might have been gas. The pains became stronger, and more frequent, until I thought I MIGHT have been in labor, but my actual due date was a month away.
My doctor said I could come in, it was possible I was in labor. I was in denial, however, and even on the frantic way to the hospital - with my husband blowing through at least one red light - I was convinced it was false labor.
When we got to the hospital, I walked through the ER doors, and climbed up on a gurney the wrong way. I couldn't move. They examined me shortly thereafter, and I was at 9 centimeters. I was going to have a baby. No time for an epidural or anything, just some medicine they said would take the edge off. Not so much. It did, however, drug Annette after she came out (they gave her some medicine to counteract that).
Hubby was feeling faint. They gave him a cool cloth and some orange juice, as I was doing the pushing. I guess it was rough on him. And then, after Annette made her debut, he left with her to see where they were taking her. Meanwhile, when he was gone, the nurses made me go to the bathroom - I guess they have to to see if my bladder was torn. I passed out on the toilet, and when Hubby came back, there I was, on the toilet, with nurses huddled around me, giving me smelling salts.
When I felt better, and was in my own bed, they brought my beautiful Annette in to me, and I cuddled her like she was a bag of glass. I was afraid of breaking her. Somehow, I didn't.
When the pediatrician on call came in to talk about Annette, she was careful to talk about her birthmark. I knew what a birthmark was, knew it was permanent but harmless, and the doc was talking about it like I didn't know what it was. Sheesh.
All I could feel was wonder and love, and fear and hope. Twenty-five years later, nothing has changed. Happy Birthday, Annette. <3
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