Thursday, November 13, 2008

Space Mountain

Of my many confessions, this one is probably the oddest...

Space Mountain was always the coolest ride at Disney World. You wait in line, heading down a deceptively long slope through outer space, waiting with people, one step down at a time until you get to the glorious turnstiles telling your party to go to either the Alpha Train (on the left) or the Omega Train (on the right)-- as a kid, you know... you just know (because Billy told you between Math & Science the week before you left) that the Omega Train (on the right) is better.

It's faster, cooler, and the train leaves the tracks longer. Your big brother confirmed it. So, waiting an extra 10 minutes because everyone has heard the same story either at the basketball court, recess, on the way to chapel, or any number of other places rumors third graders spread is a small price to pay. After winding through the myriad of turns, twists, and long expanses of this line, you...are...next.

Strap in, buckle up and raise your hands (because you are going to lower them as soon as it gets dark. Billy's brother knew a kid who lost his hand when he hit it on the train tracks above. Billy was dangerous with the amount of knowledge he had.) and with a big jolt, vroom.

The train is off.

Sitting in the red (or blue) tube waiting to launch is where my confession begins.

We heard the heartbeat again today. vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh... and in the background, there was my heartbeat. Swoosh...swoosh...swoosh. After waiting a whole month and throwing up like it's my JOB, there it was. vroosh, vroosh, vroosh of the littlest little Cagle around. Cold jelly, a full bladder, and Husband grinning from ear to ear... The first thing I wanted to do was call Tommy.

Mothers have been in this room before, hearing the Doppler track down the little sucker. Husbands have been here. Friends, sisters, even strangers (too much tequila?), but I cannot think of one time I heard about a "father-in-law" going behind those sacred doors of the ob-gyns office to -literally- no man's land. With about a 30 second window before Poppy swam off to another nook of my uterus- Will hands me the phone to call his dad.

What a special, very non-Space Mountain, moment. There we were... me with my belly in the air and my modesty on a temporary sabbatical, Husband in his scrubs with a little hospital scum on his left shoe, the greatest doctor with her brand new Doppler chasing Poppy all around my stomach (and just a little close to nether regions), and Tommy- 275 miles away in Doerun, running his store & so proud of his son that he could barely talk. What a blended bunch we were, we Merry band of Cagles.

Back to Space Mountain. In the train, waiting for launch & systems are counting down... vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh, vroosh is all that can be heard in the tube before launching into the unknown. That is where the Cagles are-- vrooshing. Every time I hear that little noise or we talk about hearing that little noise all I can picture is Brad & me, two young kids at Disney World in the train at Space Mountain, waiting to launch.

VROOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHH!

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