Entering the World

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Four years ago on February 13th, I waddled into one of my customers and handed them my marketing bid for the season.  It was my last project before I was officially on maternity leave.  This baby had been a little gymnast the last few weeks.  Each appointment, he was in a different spot:  breech, oblique breech, side ways left, side ways right.  Never the same.  The day before, he was breech and my cervix was still holding at a whopping 1cm, where it had been for three weeks.  

After chatting with my customer, I drove to Wal*Mart.  I made a record speed run through the store, and then stopped at the car dealership to say to my husband.  At 4:30, I went to pick up the Dude from daycare.   When I picked him up, I felt a little pull and wetness in my womanly area.  No biggie, big baby has been using my bladder as a trampoline for weeks.

I go home, change my undies (I won’t mention the nasty booger glob I found), and get on the computer, to waste my time in Babycenter’s chat room.  I mention to my pals that I was having a slight cramp.  No biggie, big baby also likes to use my body for a punching bag, so I’m use to discomfort.  After chatting for about 35 minutes, one of them said, ummm do you realize that your “cramps” were like five minutes apart, but now are like two to three minutes apart?”  Well crap.  Just then I realized that I also had been leaking the whole time.  I called the labor and delivery (L&D) and asked what I should do.  I said that I might have broken my water, but wasn’t sure.  They said I should come in, “just in case.”

Well crap.  I was going to eat fried cat-fish with my in-laws.  So the Dude and I get in the car, I call my mother in law and tell her to put on her shoes, we’re going to the hospital.  I call Michael, and of course he’s selling a car.  I tell him to finish and meet me at the hospital.

At my mother in laws, I stood in the front hallway, and watched her gather things for a trip up Mt.  Everest.  Water bottles, towels, blankets, books, magazines, a bunch of bananas, snacks, extra socks.  Does she not realize that we are driving THREE miles across town?  And that the hospital is already stocked with supplies?  LET’S GO ALREADY!!!!!!!!!

We get there at 7pm, the nurse sticks her hand up my whoo-ha, and says that I’m only at a 2cm and my water has not broken.  The anaesthesiologist says, “hey it’s starting to snow, do you want an epidural?”  Note:  if the weather-forecaster person says SNOW, people move in mob groups to Wal*Mart, and buy everything they can fit in their cars.    So my answer is yes, and I get my epidural at 7:45 pm.

Meanwhile, my husband has sold his car and is now racing down the highway to meet me.  Oh, and the nurses called the Doctor, and he is also racing down the highway.  In fact, they are racing down the same highway, together.  Against one another.  A Ford focus and a Porsche.  Guess who won.  Guess which one my husband drove.

Back to me.  The Doctor arrives and checks to see if my water really did break or not.  He sticks his hand in my twitter, and GUSH!  My water breaks.  He says, “I guess you are staying the night now.”  Nice.

The night goes on, I watch the Lacey Peterson story on Life or some-other sappy station.  30 minutes left and they want to look at my twatter again.  Please move your head!  I can’t see the freaking tv!  At 11:20 pm, I was told that I was only at a 3 and probably won’t have the baby tonight, but have a Valentine’s baby (oddly enough, my due date).   Let check me again at 11:40 pm, and good grief!  I’m at a 9!!!!!!!!!!!!!  They call everyone in, rush rush rush!  I pushed about three times and at 11:53 pm the Man was born!

I’m a day late, but yesterday was his fourth birthday.  He’s a funny kid.  He fits in well.  He can hold his own against the Dude, in fact he’s the same size, just ALMOST taller than the Dude.

He got to go with us on our owner’s ride of the boat.  Breakfast and dinner out at his favorite places.  Oh and he picked out a dog at the pound.  Gumbo two is his name.  A terrier-chow mix.  Yeah, I know.  Get the picture out of your mind.

His party is on Saturday, and we’re going bowling!  Yeah!

 Happy Birthday MAN!

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