9 Years Ago Today
Just before the alarm clock went off, I woke up, having to pee. It was 6am. Considering I was over 9 months pregnant, that wasn't very unusual. I waddled to the bathroom, peed, and then went to iron my clothes for the day.
The urge to pee hit me again... well, this is weird.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks- I WAS FINALLY IN LABOR!
After 9 months of waiting, the day was FINALLY here. I had been dialated for month, semi-effaced, and MORE than ready to become a mother. Figuring this process could take all day, I turned off Hub's alarm clock and took a shower. Contraction after contraction hit, with increasing intensity.
I finally woke up the Hub and called my parents around 7am. MY MOM FREAKED. "How long have you been in labor? AN HOUR! OMG... GET TO THE HOSPITAL! YOU KNOW HOW QUICK MY LABORS WERE!" You see, I got a rootbeer and a baby brother for my 3rd birthday. I knew Mom's 2nd labor was quick (AFBro was born while Dad was parking the car after dropping Mom off at the ER door), but I didn't realize that her first labor was just as quick. Oops.
By 8am we were rushing into the ER, me in full, hard labor; contractions 3-4 minutes apart.
Thank you, Epidural! By 10am, I had my Epidural and was getting some much-needed relief from the pain. An hour later, and I was fully dialated. BUT WAIT.. DON'T PUSH YET! "It's our shift change- would you mind waiting?"
DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT TO WAIT???????????????????????
But... I did.
I started pushing at noon, and an hour and 17 minutes later, I had a freshly pinked baby boy. All 8 pounds, 10 ounces of him- and every ounce screaming like there's no tomorrow. His wrinkled forehead looking like he had the weight of the world on his tiny, red shoulders. My parents, crying at the sight of their first grandchild... and my brother's disappointment of missing the actual birth because he arrived around 1:45, 30 minutes too late.
Every year I relive the day you were born, Thomas. I remember your first birthday, and how I cried cleaning up afterward, knowing that my baby was indeed growing up. We've come a long way, baby boy.... You're 9 now. You're entering the 4th grade. You play baseball, climb trees, ride a bike, swim like a fish, rollerblade, and have "grown up" teeth instead of baby teeth. You've lost all of your "baby" words, like "hangerber", "marsh-oh-do's", "yespect", "da-doo", "bo-bo", and "fuserated". (translation: hamburger, marshmallows, except, dropped it, poop, and frustrated) You weigh about 65 pounds- well past the 8 you were born at. But you know what?
You'll always be my baby boy, and I'll always love you, LTHSS*.
*Little Thomas, He's So Sweet!
The urge to pee hit me again... well, this is weird.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks- I WAS FINALLY IN LABOR!
After 9 months of waiting, the day was FINALLY here. I had been dialated for month, semi-effaced, and MORE than ready to become a mother. Figuring this process could take all day, I turned off Hub's alarm clock and took a shower. Contraction after contraction hit, with increasing intensity.
I finally woke up the Hub and called my parents around 7am. MY MOM FREAKED. "How long have you been in labor? AN HOUR! OMG... GET TO THE HOSPITAL! YOU KNOW HOW QUICK MY LABORS WERE!" You see, I got a rootbeer and a baby brother for my 3rd birthday. I knew Mom's 2nd labor was quick (AFBro was born while Dad was parking the car after dropping Mom off at the ER door), but I didn't realize that her first labor was just as quick. Oops.
By 8am we were rushing into the ER, me in full, hard labor; contractions 3-4 minutes apart.
Thank you, Epidural! By 10am, I had my Epidural and was getting some much-needed relief from the pain. An hour later, and I was fully dialated. BUT WAIT.. DON'T PUSH YET! "It's our shift change- would you mind waiting?"
DO I LOOK LIKE I WANT TO WAIT???????????????????????
But... I did.
I started pushing at noon, and an hour and 17 minutes later, I had a freshly pinked baby boy. All 8 pounds, 10 ounces of him- and every ounce screaming like there's no tomorrow. His wrinkled forehead looking like he had the weight of the world on his tiny, red shoulders. My parents, crying at the sight of their first grandchild... and my brother's disappointment of missing the actual birth because he arrived around 1:45, 30 minutes too late.
Every year I relive the day you were born, Thomas. I remember your first birthday, and how I cried cleaning up afterward, knowing that my baby was indeed growing up. We've come a long way, baby boy.... You're 9 now. You're entering the 4th grade. You play baseball, climb trees, ride a bike, swim like a fish, rollerblade, and have "grown up" teeth instead of baby teeth. You've lost all of your "baby" words, like "hangerber", "marsh-oh-do's", "yespect", "da-doo", "bo-bo", and "fuserated". (translation: hamburger, marshmallows, except, dropped it, poop, and frustrated) You weigh about 65 pounds- well past the 8 you were born at. But you know what?
You'll always be my baby boy, and I'll always love you, LTHSS*.
*Little Thomas, He's So Sweet!
posted by AFSister at 11:10 AM | 
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