October 27, 2016

Eight years ago today. . .

I had pretty much given up on ever giving birth.  I was convinced that I would be pregnant for the rest of my entire life. After a weekend of last minute Halloween activities and prep and lots of false labor, I was in despair.  And as a last ditch effort to induce labor, (I had tried everything else. No. Really.)  I decided to clean my house. My entire house. And, while I was at it, I might as well make a nice dinner.  And so I did.  From top to bottom, I cleaned everything.  I did dozens of loads of laundry, washed every dish, swept every floor and picked up every toy.  I made chicken, funeral potatoes, rolls, salad.  It was a nice dinner.   And just as I was putting the chicken into the oven, it hit.  The first contraction.

I straightened up and looked at the clock.  4:00.  I wasn't about to call the midwife. I had been having random contractions for weeks.  And so I headed upstairs to switch the laundry. And sure enough, another one hit.  So, I called my husband.  Then I called the midwife.  Then I called my mom. John arrived home a remarkable 10 minutes later.  Before my mom did, to take over the parenting duties. The hypnobirthing training had kicked in and I wanted to make John start doing the breathing, because he was stressing me out more than the contractions were.  They were about four minutes apart by this time.  And 5:00 in the evening.  And yes, that meant rush hour.  By the time we arrived at the hospital, 30 minutes later, the contractions were 2 minutes apart.  I couldn't walk into the hospital.  John deposited me in a wheelchair in front of check in while he parked the car.  Thirty minutes and a decent amount of screaming later, I was holding a perfect little baby boy with dark hair.
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Five years ago that little boy woke up, determined that today was NOT his birthday and that he was still 2.  Until he saw the presents.  And for the remainder of the day he proudly held up 3 and a half fingers and proclaimed, "I'm fwee."

Oh, good heaven. My baby is fwee.

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5 comments:

Liesl Shurtliff said...

That's so sweet. That's about how my births go! Nice and fast.

Melissa Bastow said...

So you didn't even get to enjoy your dinner? I think anyone who has to go through a decent amount of screaming should at least get to finish their funeral potatoes first.

Erin said...

What a sweet (and fast!) birth story.

And now I want funeral potatoes.

wendy said...

that was fun to hear
You just made it girl
I had a baby born today too.....27 years ago. my youngest.
fun times to remember those experiences.

Loralee and the gang... said...

Goes to show you - time flies when you are having fun!

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