Labor Day for Me Meant A Day of Labor
Thirty years ago I labored on Labor Day
Labor Day, the upcoming holiday in the United States, has a special meaning for me. Thirty years ago, I labored all day on Labor Day, as it was the day on which I had my first child.
I was overdue, having had a due date in late August. But, early on Monday, Labor Day morning, just after midnight, I went into labor. It was a date a few days later than this year’s date of September 2nd.
I rang my OB who happened to be on call, and he told me to stay home for a while — my contractions were far apart and I had plenty of time, considering it was my first birthing experience.
That response made me nervous but I walked the floors, watched the Jerry Lewis Telethon, a staple of Labor Day weekend back then, and saw some recaps of the US Open Tennis Tournament.
I had a nervous sense of anticipation that was hard to ignore and made it hard to relax.
By early morning, around 6:30 a.m., my labor had progressed and I called my obstetrician again. This time he told me to come in so they could check and see how far I had dilated. He also told me he was “going off service” and who the oncoming OB was to be for the day.
