Thumbing through the pages of my photo album, I came across my first born. It seems like only yesterday that I held my smiling bundle of joy. Now, his 17th birthday is just around the corner. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the day I became a mom.

"Honey, I think it's time," I said at the first twinge of a contraction, thinking to myself that it wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't what everyone told me it would be like.

"Honey. " I gently whispered into my sleeping spouse's ear. "Wake up," I said. My spouse opened his sleepy eyes, only half realizing what was about to take place.

Calmly he did his best. He warmed up the car, carried out my bag and smiled reassuringly while we took the long journey to the hospital and into parenthood.

The nurse wheeled me into the clean white room and I listened to the crunching sound of white shoes on waxed floors. I was slightly startled by the inhuman screaming coming from down the hall. My spouse was with me; a bright yellow paper gown covered his blue jeans. He said he was ready to do his part. How fortunate he was to participate in the birth of his first child, unlike his father who had to wait in a special room just for men.

Suddenly, the first real contraction hit. "My god in heaven," I screamed, "what the heck was that?"

The contractions came a little faster. My spouse did as he was instructed in our childbirth classes. "Honey, do you want an ice chip?" my spouse asked.

By body twisted again and I let out a hearty scream. "Honey really, I think that you need an ice chip."

"An ice chip? I'm trying to pass a watermelon through a key hole and you want me to eat a stinking ice chip?"

"Honey, please breathe."

"Breathe. I don't want to breathe, I want to scream. Where is the nurse, get me some drugs. I want drugs and I want them now."

"But baby, we discussed this. We decided to do this naturally, without pain killers."

"We discussed this? I don't remember that. Do you have it in writing? If it's not in writing then it doesn't count. Get me those drugs. I want drugs now."

"Maybe another ice chip will help."

"I don't want another stinking ice chip. I want morphine. I want that silver canister of morphine."

"Honey," my spouse began again in a low calming voice. "According to the books, women get a little bit emotional during the actual delivery."

With hair in my face, tears in my eyes and a body the size of a wildebeest, I turned away from the calming voice.

When I turned again, I couldn't see him. Where did he go? "Nurse, don't let that big yellow guy get away. Stop him somebody, stop him."

"Honey, I only went to get your brown lunch bag to breathe into. Remember the book says that you must breathe, and count."

"Again with the breathing. Where is that book? Get me the book so I can toss it off into outer space." Another sharp pain and I let out a scream that woke the dead.

"Remember honey, women have been having babies in fields for centuries." That's it, I thought. If there is such a thing as life after death, then I am ready for a much-deserved break the next time around. I definitely am coming back as a man. I want better living through chemistry and I want those pain pills now.

My doctor looked a little concerned. He approached with the biggest hypodermic needle I have ever seen. Face contorted, I screamed at him in a semi-possessed voice, "Are those my drugs?"

Wow, look at the size of that needle. "I want you to shoot my husband with that first. I'm paying you a lot of money for your expertise, Doc, so I want you to shoot him with it now. He wants natural childbirth without drugs. He wants to experience this first hand, so shoot him, right now!"

My doctor looked as though he hadn't heard me, obviously immune after years of verbal outbursts from other soon-to-be moms. "I think that we will have to go in," he said. "But your husband is welcome to stay."

I looked over at my big yellow spouse. For the first time I sensed his fear. His eyes were wide and there was perspiration on his brow. I think maybe he needed a stinking ice chip or two. He sat in a chair mumbling.

It was much easier waiting in that special guys' waiting room: nice comfy chairs, guy-bonding, handing out cigars, stuff like that. What ever happened to the good old days anyway? I felt bad for my better half.

"It's okay honey. I'm not sure that I want to go into the cutting room, so how can I expect you to go. Wait in the guys' room. You can have my share of the ice chips."

He looked relieved. I got some pain pills and a truly adorable baby boy.