Wednesday, October 17, 2007
On this day three years ago, I was laying in a hospital bed begging my OB to admit me for induction one day earlier than she had planned. It was so unfair, I whined. Other moms didn't have to walk around for nearly a week 4cm dilated feeling like their babies were one good stumble from popping out. I didn't want to make the long drive home only to return in the morning. Finally my OB admitted me, but only after much cajoling and some well-deserved teasing about how whiny I was and had been the entire pregnancy; she wanted that baby out too if only to shut me up.
Some Pitocin, one good push and Bubba cleanly and quietly entered this world in time for his parents to watch Boston's David Ortiz hit a walk-off home run in the bottom of the 12th to best the Yanks 6-4. It has been one topsy-turvy adventure from there. Sure, I've mastered the penis tuck but I can't seem to aim the darn thing. I'm so sorry if any of you have used a restroom after us; I mop off the seat but the floor is another matter.
That little kid who was so quiet for his birth is quite the loquacious little person who amazes me everyday. Every sentence starts with Hey Mommy and ends with something as random as that's a people bridge, not a car bridge or how old are you. In time, I will teach him that one of those questions is never to be asked of a woman. He plays with Legos, loves Thomas (and James and Edwards and Percy), and has an infectious laugh. He conjures imaginary barracudas and other marine life. And he is sensitive. His feelings are easily bruised but just as easily soothed. He's my boy. And, he's three years old today.