I love hockey.  I mean, I LOVE hockey.  Just like I love coffee and chocolate and all things that have to do with new shoes.  Here is an example of my hockey obsession love…

When I was in labor with Gabriella 6 years ago, I told the doctor that morning that the last game of the regular season, the last game in our “old” arena was starting at 7:30pm.  There would be no argument about the fact that this baby had 2 choices: To be born before the puck dropped or wait until the game was over.  Period.  Birth is good.  Birth is beautiful.  But this is hockey we are talking about.

So, as we approach the puck drop I insist the doctor check me to see how close we are to this baby thing happening.  He assured me it would most likely be after the game was over.  *whew* But darned if that baby didn’t decide at around 7:20pm that she was eager to watch the game, too.  I ignored the intense contractions and waited for game time.  The game started.  I got into it.  As I screamed at the players, the nurses would run in to check on me.

“I am FINE!” I would insist.  “I am yelling at the hockey players who are playing like THEY are the ones in labor.” After a few times, the nurses began to ignore the yelling.  (Though they later told me they placed bets on whether my intense emotions during the game would speed things up.) So there I am enjoying the game, yelling at players and having a great time when everyone realized that nothing was going to happen for a while and therefore everyone left the room.  It was just me and the Stars.  Alone.  In labor.

Smart alec baby decided THAT would be the perfect time to come into this world.  I paged the nurse.  I yelled. I threw things at the door.  It wasn’t until an orderly came in to get some equipment that I verbally and loudly threatened his life if he didn’t get me a doctor RIGHT THEN because this baby was not waiting for this game to end.  With skepticism, the doctor and nurses strolled in.  After checking me they realized it was time.  RIGHT THEN.  As the room began to buzz with people, I kept hushing them so I could hear the game.  (For the record, they don’t like that.  Though, the NICU doctor did get a giggle out of it.) They told me that as much as I wanted to watch the game, the baby was coming and I had to push.  They even said PLEASE!  This was baby number 3.  I could wait.  (She could not, as it turns out.) As soon as they called intermission on the game, I got focused on that whole “delivering a baby thing.”

“Let’s do this!” I told my doctor.  As he laughed he told me to push.  One push, my little angel was born. 

Oh sure, I told her and the doctors that it had to be before the puck dropped or after the game and that did not happen, but at least my little girl decided to show me some mercy and wait until an intermission.  By the time the game started up again, my daughter was born, weighed, had her picture taken and was in my arms as I watched the next period begin. 

I actually have a picture of me watching the game over the doctor’s shoulder as he did whatever it was that doctor’s do after you give birth.

Finally, a nurse came in and told me that it was time to move me to my room.

“Oh, no you are not!” was my response.  She just stared at me blankly.  I explained that the game was not over.  Only 12 minutes left.  So, I asked if we could stay until the game was over.  Having never been asked that before she stammered and stuttered and relented.  She let me wait until the game was over.  (Poor Clint had to miss it so that he could be in the nursery with the baby as they do whatever it is they do to babies after they are born.)

In the end, I was able to watch the entire game.  And they TIED.  All that for a tie game.  (But I forgave them.  I did have a new baby after all.) And to all of the nurses who actually bet real money that I would name my daughter Star….HA!  I am a crazy fan but not THAT crazy.  She is Gabriella.  I only call her Star Baby.

I tell you this because it will make more sense as to why there was actual crying (by me) during a hockey game last week. Crying that did not even occur when I was in labor. Yes, folks, I cried at a hockey game.  But for good reason.  Stay tuned.

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