Birth Adventure of Our Daughter Sara

[A joyous yet cautionary tale]

Sara was born in Linares, Nuevo Leon, Mexico. She was almost born on the road to Linares. She came rather rapidly once her time had come to enter this world. That was February 1, 1974. Sara’s first adventure was almost being born on the side of a mountain.

We were living 62 kilometers up the mountain from Linares on Hwy. 60–due west in the Sierra Madre mountains. It took one hour to travel those 37 miles, no matter if you were going uphill or downhill. The road was steep, so steep and curvy that going 20 miles an hour sometimes would throw you against the side of the van.  

It was a beautiful drive most of the time. Kilometer 62 was our address and was exactly a mile high, cool and dry in the winter. But just one hour away lay the sultry tropics of Linares. The city was surrounded by enormous orange and grapefruit orchards for as far as the eye could see.

The week before Sara was born, my wife Linda had false labor. She thought it was time. “Hurry, Wayne! It is time to go to the hospital!” So, we ran to the van and drove like crazy to get there in  time, only to find out that the baby was not ready. Disappointed, we drove on back to the mission and resumed our day-to-day activities.

The days clicked on. Linda got bigger and bigger and still no baby. She would have some twinges and pains here and there, but nothing serious seemed to be happening. Or at least she thought that.

Linda kept waiting and waiting, thinking it was just false labor again. Things got serious on February 1^st. The contractions were getting harder. At first, they were four minutes apart, and then two minutes apart.

“Hurry! This must be the time!” Linda moaned. We sped down the mountain faster than usual. I know I was jostling her way too much. The extreme rocking motion probably helped to bring it on even faster. Down, down, and round and round we sped down that mountain, and all the while Linda was crying out in pain, “It’s coming! It’s coming! Hurry! Oh, God, it’s coming!”

We pulled into the hospital driveway in front of the receiving ward. Thank goodness that it was on the near side of the city on our highway. The side doors flew open. I called out for help. Medics rushed over. We got Linda onto a gurney, and they wheeled her swiftly down the hallway to the maternity delivery room. All the while, she was moaning in a wild-eyed blonde frenzy.

It was not five minutes after we got there that Sara came into this world. It happened so fast that they did not even have enough time to take Linda’s dress off and put her into a gown. I shouted to the nun nurses, “I want to come into the delivery room!”

“No, you cannot come in here. You must stay outside the doors.” The double doors had glass windows about eight inches above my eye level. So, I had to jump up and take a split-second glimpse of my first daughter being born. I didn’t have time to jump too much because the baby came quickly.

Usually, Linda had a difficult time because our babies had such large craniums. But, thank God, not Sara. She came so quickly that she just popped out, and there it was, the miracle of procreation once again gracing the stage we call earth. Hello, crazy daddy, jumping up and down to catch a glimpse of the precious little miracle. And finally, there it was!

“It’s a boy!” I shouted out at the top of my lungs. “It’s a boy!” I was announcing boldly through the cracked door to all the attendant nuns and to the radiant mother herself, now holding her new infant.

“No, it’s not,” said Linda calmly, patiently smiling at the ecstatic father. “It’s a girl.”

“But,” I said, looking down between the baby’s legs.

“That’s the umbilical cord wrapped around her.”

“I thought it was… that’s OK! It’s a beautiful baby girl!”

This is one of the most memorable adventures, not just as missionaries to Mexico, but in our entire life. Sara has been adventurous ever since. I guess it is in her DNA.  

Kenneth Wayne Hancock