In my previous blog I described one of the happiest days of my life – my wedding day. This blog is going to be all about another happy day in my life – the birth of my son, Christopher.
Christopher was born on Thursday May 10, 1973 at 10:06 AM, weighing in at five pounds and thirteen ounces.
As usual, nothing the Penczak family does is easy. It all began early in the morning of May 10th, at approximately one-thirty. I felt Rosalie shaking me, and saying, “Ron, wake up – Ron wake up.”
I answered, ” What, what’s wrong.”
“I think the baby is coming.”
I responded matter-of-factly, like an expert, that I wasn’t, “Honey your not due in two weeks. It’s false labor pains.” As I rolled over on my side, I continued, “Go back to sleep.”
Rosalie, being much wiser than this baby expert called her OB specialist, Dr. Mallon. After a short discussion, he said, “Put your husband on the phone.”
“Yes doctor, right away doctor.” He gave me a simple direct order, “Get Rosalie to the hospital right now.”
I have no recollection of us even getting the car. All I know I was driving hell bent to the hospital and traveling faster than I should have been. Yep, you guessed it, I had flashing blue lights behind me and the wail of a siren. I pulled over.
“Where are you going in such a rush at this time of the morning?”
I pointed to Rosalie’s belly and excitedly said, “My wife is having a baby. We’re going to Lawrence General Hospital.”
“Are you sure your not going to see the airplane crash?”
“What airplane crash?”
“Okay, take off.” he said. “Just slow down.”
Little did we know that a corporate jet had crashed on its approach to Lawrence Airport killing, I believe, four corporate executives and the pilot and co-pilot just hours before.
Upon our arrival at the hospital I retrieved a wheel chair from the lobby, helped Rosalie into it and pushed her towards the maternity section. Rosalie and I had attended the Expectant Parents Program at the hospital in March, but everything I learned left my mind. l just wanted to get Rosalie into the maternity section where she would get the care she needed. At the desk I excitedly told the nurses there that my wife was having a baby and . . . wait a minute, they weren’t interested in me, they were talking about the plane crash and the charred bodies that were brought to the hospital. Needless to say, I did get their attention and they got her into a room and started to prepare her for delivery of Christopher.
At the beginning I was allowed to wait with her. One of the nurses said she heard two heartbeats. We looked at each other with obvious panic. We weren’t confidant that we could care for one infant, how were we going to handle twins? A second more experienced nurse came in to double-check. With a sigh, she said, “The second heartbeat was Rosalie’s. There is only one baby, not two.” Whew. It was about that time when she asked me to leave the room. In those days, the husband wasn’t allowed in the delivery room. I was ushered out, into the fathers waiting room.
I was the typical first time Dad, pacing the floor. A short, thin Japanese lady came in to clean the room. She must have sensed my nervousness and she started a conversation. After she learned that I had spent time in the Far East to include Japan we had more to talk about. She went somewhere and came back with a cup of coffee. After she left I went back to pacing the floor.
Time was dragging. I was getting nervous. Was something wrong? What’s going on? I checked with a nurse and she said things are going just fine, Rosalie was in labor. After ten am, a nurse came in to late me know that we had a beautiful boy. Wow! How happy was I? I was deliriously happy. I called Rosalie’s mother. It seemed like her and her sister were at the hospital by the time I hung up the phone.
We went in to see Rosalie and the baby. I was shocked. Christopher was so pink it reminded me of a chicken who had it feathers scalded off. Everyone assured me that all was well and he was a healthy baby boy.
When it came time for us to take Christopher home we were both nervous. We were going to be responsible for this infant boy without any nurses to watch us and to correct us. Neither of us wanted to dress him. We were afraid we would break an arm or a leg or something worse. One of the nurses came in and encouraged us, saying, “Babies are tougher than you think. You won’t break anything dressing him.” I’m sure Rosalie took over and dressed him and off we went. During the first few months Rosalie’s mother and aunt were a big help to her.
All in all, I think Rosalie did a pretty masterful job of raising Christopher. You all know what a great young man he turned out to be.
It’s ironic that I chose this birthday of Christopher to write this blog. It just happens to be Mothers Day as well. I’m sure Rosalie is still around and guiding him. I’m so fortunate to have Christopher in the moment right now, and in having had Rosalie for forty-two years. I have been and I still am truly blessed.
Ron Penczak 