Happy Birthday, Little Man!

One year ago, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking I’d peed my pants. A few hours later (after dozing back to sleep), I woke up to find that I still had no control over my bladder. I woke up, took a shower, and we grabbed our bag and went to the hospital. I was only half sure that my water had broken. I imagined it would be like the movies where they’re standing there and the next second there is a large puddle under them.  But I knew that once it broke, I only had 24 hours to get Jack out. So I figured we’d head to the hospital to be sure. I wasn’t really having contractions…I had a few cramps but they were nothing like the sitcoms make contractions out to be…so I just didn’t think I was in labor. John begged me to eat something but I wasn’t hungry. He knew that if I was in labor, I wouldn’t be able to eat until we were parents…but I refused (a decision I would later very much regret). We called my parents and told them we were heading to the hospital and asked them to watch Truman for us. They told me that Browyn (my sister) had called too and said that she was heading to the hospital as well. Browyn and I were both due on March 21st. I knew that one of us would be heading back home that day because really…what were the odds that we were both actually in labor…on the exact same day…2 weeks before our babies were due to arrive?

When we got to the hospital, we buzzed the ringer to let us in the doors to the Labor and Delivery floor.  The woman came over the intercom and said, “How can I help you?” I responded, “Um…I’m gonna have a baby?” I still remember thinking that was strange. Why else would I be ringing the button at 7 am? They checked me in, checked me out and found that sure enough, my water had broken and Jack was on his way. We were wheeled into our room, I was given pitocin to speed up contractions (because my water had broken and I still wasn’t really having powerful contractions…and remember, I now only had about 18 hours to get the kid out since I went to bed after the breakage), and told to get some sleep. After an hour or so, they asked when I wanted the epidural. I’m not too proud to admit that I wanted it about 2 minutes after I peed on the stick that told me I was pregnant. They told me that the anesthesiologist could do my epidural now or in a couple hours. Needless to say, within 5 minutes, I had a giant needle in my back and no feeling in my toes. The next few hours were spent with Hannah Montana on TV, restless naps, talking to Browyn and comparing our progress, and John eating in front of me (I was STARVING…I should have listened to John… he did offer to eat somewhere else for the record). By about 5 pm, I was ready to push. They told me that they would have to turn down the epidural because since it was working so darn well, I couldn’t even feel the pressure to know when to push. I made the nurse a promise: if she didn’t turn down the epidural, I would push harder and stronger than she could possibly imagine. If she found out that I wasn’t pushing hard enough, then fine. She could turn it down. We had a deal. And I wasn’t fooling around. Friends, if you can push that kid out of you without drugs YOU ARE MY HERO!!! And I know that my body was made to do that and if I had to, I could. But let’s be honest, I’m no hero. If there are drugs, I’m gonna take them. And that’s okay. It was my labor and it was exactly how I wanted it. I knew that recovery would be no walk in the park (and it wasn’t. I was in horrible pain for weeks.) so I wanted childbirth itself to be as painless as possible. I wasn’t fooling around either. The doctor almost didn’t get there in time because the nurse didn’t realize I’d push so hard and strong so she didn’t call the doctor until it was almost too late. A couple hours later, John and I were holding our little fat-faced Jackster.

This year has been the longest and shortest of my life. Those first few months were tough. They were REALLY tough. Jack’s GERD and food allergies combined with a little bit of Post Partum Depression made me an emotional wreck. If he was awake, he was screaming.

I just wanted to fix him and I couldn’t. I was so afraid that he would be miserable his entire life. Sure, I knew I would sleep again. Sure, I knew he would grow out of it. But at the time, even one day seemed like an eternity.

Today I look at him and feel like the days have just flown by. Every day he learns something new and even at his fussiest, his smile can light up a room.

It’s no secret that Jack came before we thought we were ready to be parents. But now I cannot imagine my life without him. I didn’t think I’d be one of “those women” who was obsessed with their kid. I was wrong. I was so very, very wrong. This baby boy (who doesn’t seem like such a baby anymore) has taught me so very much about patience, love, and God’s perfect timing. He has made me fall even more in love with my husband—something that I didn’t think was possible. He has made this the best year of my entire life and I am so grateful that God chose us to be his parents.

I love the way you look all the way up in the air when you are really excited and smiling about something.

I love how you light up and put your arms out for me when I walk in to the room. I love how you sleep with your butt way up in the air.

I love the excitement on your face when you see your pacifier (and I’m sorry that I am not letting you have it anymore now that you are one).

I love how you slurp spaghetti and how you point at the doors and windows in anticipation of us taking you outside.

I love how you point at nearly everything and say “Tha?” as if to ask us, “What’s that?” I love how you want to walk so badly but you take 4 or 5 steps at a running sprint and end up falling into our arms instead.

I love how you can crawl at breakneck speeds (even if I fear that it will cause you to, in fact, break your neck).

I love the way you move up and down when you hear music. I love your smile and I adore your sweet blue eyes. I love every single thing about you, even at your fussiest.

Happy Birthday, Kiddo. There are no words to describe how much we love and adore you.