Happy Happy Birthday Zachary!

Standard

My middle son turns a whopping EIGHT years old this year!  Actually it was last night . . . minus 8 years!  He was due February 14th . . .

Earlier in the day on the 13th I turned in my final task for SYSCO, before I went on maternity leave.  I dropped the sales bid for Magic Springs, where we had not done business with in many many years.    I drove to Wal*Mart for a few items before the expected snow fall came.  If you aren’t from the south, then you must be made to understand that when “snow” or “ice” are predicted in the weather report, then the milk, bread, beer and eggs go flying off the shelf, as if they had a golden ticket in it!

So I then went to pick up my first born at daycare, and when I literally picked him up, I felt something ooey gooey down there.  Ick, my  mucous plug!  Bren and I went home, with plans to have dinner with my in laws (another Southern winter fact:  you must go eat catfish before it snows).  As I waited for it to be time to leave, I was chatting with my online mommy buddies.  I guess I was mentioning when I had a little “cramp” and really thinking nothing of it.  Strange thing is I kept feeling “wet” down below, and when I realized this, one of my mommy buddies said, “hellloooooo, you are having contractions about 3 minutes apart!!!”  Oh hell.  I called the hospital and asked maybe if my water broke (yeah, I was one of THOSE patients).  I said it wasn’t a sudden gush like on TV, nor did I have the tremendous pain the mommies had on TV (because we all know THAT’s real).  She suggested that I come in and be checked.  I drove to my in laws house, and said that I might have to miss dinner!  So Bren stayed with Popo, and Molly and I was going to drive to the hospital.  Oh, the (now ex) husband was at work and was going to meet us at the hospital.  So as I stood dripping in their carpeted hallway, dear Mother in law ran around the house “packing” for the trip . . . for 4 miles around town. hehe

When I get to the hospital around 5:30, the staff tells me that they notified the doctor, and he’s coming in to see what’s going on.  I get all hooked up to the monitors find out that I’m dilated to a two, and the anesthesiologist comes in.  He tells me that he lives in Benton, around 30 miles away, and doesn’t want to get stuck here in town.  The snow has started to fall and once he leaves, he is NOT coming back.  So I can either get an epidural now, or not at all.  Hello? Do I look stupid?  So I got my epidural around 6 pm.  Now I’m wondering where my husband is, as well as the doctor, as it’s after 7pm…..well apparently my (ex)husband was racing his little ford focus . . . with a Porsche . . . driven by my doctor.  Nice, real nice!

It ends up being an uneventful evening . . . no real excitement at all . . . Around 11:20 they check me and I’m at a whopping 4 cm . . .around 11:40 I’m suddenly at an 8 . . . then the chaos starts!  The doctor appears out of nowhere, my legs are up and I’m being told to push! push! push!  I can’t feel anything (thank you epidural lords!), and all these people are in my way . . . I’m trying to watch the Lacy Peterson made for TV movie on Lifetime!  Geesh!  After a whopping three . . . yes THREE pushes (a HUGE difference from the FOUR hours of pushing with my first son), Zachary John-Michael was born at 11:53 pm.  Almost my sweetheart baby, but with just seven minutes of mischief in him!

So happy birthday Zachary! I love you!

 

This silly boy was told he can do whatever he wanted to for his birthday . . . so what does he decide to do?  Star Wars 3D: Phantom Menance and Applebees!  Ha!  Love him!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s