If there was one person in the history of the world that I would like to repay for a transgression without a doubt it would be that little wench, Eve. Her gift of childbirth was the worst gift I've ever received. I could never prepare for it, the pain was excruciating, but the reward was the most ambrosial feeling on the planet.
             The date was March 25, 1998. It was a Wednesday, and I was a 19 year old kid with five more days until my due date. I thought I was still safe. Boy, little did I know. My husband and I knew that we were having a son, but we were dragging our feet on getting the crib ready. The baby's crib was at my grandparent's house which was 15 minutes from where we were living at the time. On that night I suddenly decided that we needed to go get the bed. About seven o'clock we loaded up in the car and went to Granny and Daddy Guy's house to pick up the crib. We arrived at the house and visited for a few minutes before we gathered the bed and headed back home. What happened next was unexpectedly expected.
             At about 8:15 P.M. we were in the car and half way home. Completely out of the blue my water broke. I don't mean broke, I mean gushed. Suddenly all of my anticipation about child birth turned into anxiety and pain. I felt like someone was whacking me across the back with a two by four. I began clenching my teeth with the illusion that it would make the pain go away. I was very much wrong. There have to be imprints in the dashboard where I tried to relieve some of the pain.
             We drove like mad to get home so we could grab our bags and hit the road to the hospital in Jackson. We left our home in Crump at around 8:40 P.M. That particular trip to Jackson was my fastest ever. At 9:15 P.M. we were sitting in the hospital registration. No one bothered to tell me about pre-registering. I, sitting in a wheelchair in full blown labor, had to take the time to fill out the ...