St. Patrick’s Day, 1988, Photo Op with the Governor

St. Patrick’s Day, 1988 stands out as one of our most memorable. At 38 years old I was a non-traditional senior enrolled in William Penn University in Oskaloosa, IA. My husband was a 39 year old junior enrolled in Buena Vista College in Ottumwa, IA. This particular St. Patrick’s Day we were heading to Des Moines, IA for a special awards ceremony at the personal invitation of Governor Terry Branstad.

In his junior year of college, Mike enrolled in a photography class. The instructor in charge of the class had turned out to be a terrific motivator, and Mike had gone so far as to enter several photography contests. One of those contests was sponsored by the State of Iowa. The theme of this particular year’s contest was “Honoring the Iowa Family”.

For months Mike poked a camera in our faces at frequent intervals, taking both posed and candid shots at scheduled and random moments. I’d had frequent pictures taken of my baby bump. I was 8 ¾ months pregnant. The boys and I had posed for numerous photos of all of us in an endless variety of activities. One of Mike’s favorites turned out to be a picture of our 12 year old son, Matt, reading to his two younger brothers, Mark and Luke. It was a beautiful black and white photo, with a picture of my parents sitting on a bookcase behind them. This shot of them won a third place in the state contest.

It was actually a border-line nasty day with blustery snow flurries occurring intermittently. We’d probably driven halfway to Des Moines when I began experiencing mild back aches. The baby wasn’t due for another week, but Mike and I discussed what we would do if he decided to put in an early appearance.

Upon hitting the city limits of Des Moines, the first thing we actually did was look up two different hospitals just in case it turned out that we needed one. The backaches continued but they were mild and infrequent.

We went to one of our favorite restaurants for lunch, and then headed for the State Capital Building. Mike had really spiffed up for the occasion. He was wearing a suit and tie, and I had whipped up a black jumper to wear over one of my maternity tops. The black color at least made me feel a little slimmer.

My feet were killing me, but my feet and legs were so swollen, I was afraid if I took my shoes off I’d never get them back on so I suffered in silence. I wasn’t wearing a coat. Ever since I had discovered my little bundle of joy was incubating my raging hormones had provided me with my own internal combustion engine. I was hot all the time.

The wait in the lobby for our appointment with the governor probably wasn’t all that long, but thanks to my continuing backaches, it seemed to take forever. At last, though, it was time for us to go up and shake the governor’s hand. Not only did Mike get the congratulatory hand shake, but the press was there to take the obligatory pictures. Mike was given a certificate suitable for framing, we posed for our photo, gave the governor our thanks, and we were out of there.

It was on the way back to the car that I noticed my back ache was beginning to abate. Just to be on the safe side though, we decided to check with my pediatrician and see what he might think. He suggested we head back to Ottumwa and check in with him just in case.

I assumed I had been having false labor pains when I never suffered any more on the two hours trip back to Ottumwa. When we arrived at the ER, which was where my doctor was by the time we reached the city limits, he came down to give me a once-over to see exactly what had been going on.

I was ready to write it off as false labor pains when he said, “Well, Mom, I don’t think they were false labor pains. You’re dilated to 4.0 already. My recommendation would be, if they return, you head right back here.”

I was a little speechless, but a little excited too. The next day I actually got up and dug the baby bed and mattress out of the attic and put them up in the nursery! There have been other memorable St. Patrick’s Days, but this one would easily number in my top two or three.


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