The Change in the Weather Will Keep Us Together

So here we are again with the rushing in of the fall. Back to school time, one routine I never grew tired of. Back to school: the anticipation of seeing old friends and meeting new ones, one gold and one silver, like the childhood rhyme. Pre-school, kindergarten, elementary school, high school, college, graduate school followed by law school. Fresh books, new teachers and professors, the first "grade"to be received of the semester or "quarter" as it were, the new rooms and later, new campuses and new buildings to study in all with their hallowed halls... Now, I am starting the cycle all over again; this time with my daughter, a pre-schooler and then, my son following in her footsteps.


I can't help but be nostalgic about this time. The ushering in of a new season, particularly autumn, conjures up great moments to behold. The first taste of butternut squash soup with fresh cream and cracked black pepper, a football game of your favorite team, roasting pumpkin seeds with sea salt after carving those beautiful pumpkins and that first fall hike when the season has unmistakably changed. The "er" months slowing unfolding like a "en plein air"artist's canvas.


So, what does the fall really bring to mind in those initial thoughts. For certain and in my mind, the deep imprint will forever be the premature birth of my son. It was a mostly unexpected early birth which came subsequent to an extremely filled 24 hours preceding his birth.


There was the "stress test"in the early morning; a must for any mother "over-35." The sandwich cart at UCSF; one not to be missed. Lots of work on the computer: drafting motions; preparing letters to clients; phone calls and emails. The day's "billing" to be accounted for; no rest for the weary. Then, there was the facepaint that needed to be located at the local art store on Haight; the preparation of a big steaming pot of Crawfish Etoufee from scratch; the arrival of my mother and father-in-law; then picking up my daughter from her playschool and dressing her as a brightly-colored peacock.


But, as it turns out, the day had only just begun. There began the Halloween party at our neighbors. Lots of pumpkin cut-out grilled cheeses; I ate five. Some sparkling lemon soft drinks; little hot dogs enveloped in a puff pastry assembled to resemble small "thumbs"; a sea of gourmet cheeses, some spicy Jambalaya and my spicy Crawfish Etoufee.


There was lots of good food to be had and for a pregnant person who had gained the weight of our family's Golden Retriever, it was entirely welcome and befitting. The feast of the senses did not end there. There was the onward march to Belvedere Street for all of us costumed revelers. Ask anyone and they will tell you Belvedere Street is the place to be for families with children in San Francisco. We were to be no exception. From festive orange, black and white balloons, to live human outfitted character shows in windows; to a disco circle playing EW&F's "September;" to Frankenstein on old-school large pull-down screens which projected the iconic movie, there was this real McCoy Halloween to be had in all its ghoulish glory.


I told my father-in-law as we made the ascent with our blue and green glittering little peacock leading the way, that " the baby would come very soon." Little did we know that would happen the very next day. Because after hours of climbing the San Francisco hills and taking part in more revelry at our neighbors complete with our children counting their candies which had been set out in large piles in the floor, our little boy had made up his mind to rush into the world, a whole six weeks early!


The evening then started to wind down. We made our way back to our flat and put our daughter down for the night. She wanted to sleep in her face paint. Who was I to argue at this point of the night. I was then able to soak my tired feet and heavily pregnant body in some warm water and settle down for some late evening reading only to arrive in bed and find my water had broken. With a huge sigh of exhaustion and somewhat disbelief, I made my way to our living room. I found that my husband had just opened a brew to share with my Hungarian friend (one of my dear "study abroad" old friends was visiting from across the Atlantic) and he happened to be staying with us for the week.


"My water just broke," I announced."Time to get packing and to the hospital. "

My husband just sat there staring at me like this was some type of joke. Having already been through a terribly long labor and emergency delivery of our first-born daughter, he knew what he was in for. My erudite European friend, who can play Liszt and Mozart on the piano like nobody's business, gave a perfect nudge to my husband and said, "I think you should start packing now." My husband got the picture. He set his beer down and starting running around in circles. My European friend, called Csongi, said some comforting words and gave us the strength to get going.

We didn't know the sex this time around. We were gearing up for another round in the ring.


Add another grueling day, two weeks in the hospital to account for our son's "complicated course" in his first weeks on the planet, and then, home, home at last. My European friend gone, the pumpkin cheesecake still in the refigerator (he had requested an "American dessert"when I asked if there was anything I could pick up for him,) and we finally arrived at home with this newly minted "It is son!"in the delivery room. Now, the fall will forever remind me of the birth of our son, Sebastian, and all his prefatory and colorful history.


All the Best,




Loren