Dear Grayson Michael,
A year ago, yesterday, we were pacing around our wee little apartment waiting for the clock to hit 8pm so we could leave for Baylor and still be an hour early. Mommy was craving fish n chips from Long John Silvers (gag....I know)! Daddy was being extra sweet and gave in, even though he thoroughly despises the place. Mommy purchased the largest combo meal she could possibly find, one fit for a pregnant woman, with hush puppies and chips. "Chips" are actually just little morsels of fried grease.....but when you dip them in your tarter sauce they become a little delicious added bonus to your meal. After drinking 2 1/2 mug root beers, I decided I couldn't stomach the smell of grease, so we left.
We rode to the hospital in the Xterra, empty car seat in the backseat, empty. Very empty. It was all I could look at. How could someone possibly sit there? Little seat full of person? How? I didn't believe it. All of this was just a dream. I rubbed my belly....(Just so you know, we video taped the ride to the hospital and the ride home....remind me one day and I will show you.)
We smelled like white trash dipped in beer batter as we entered the luxurious hospital. The labor and delivery wing had just opened a month before so we were treated like royalty despite our odors....we were the ONLY ones there that night.
I was induced at 11:00 pm, after waiting and filling out paperwork and stripping down to robe and socks. They inserted the cervidil and hooked me up to the monitors and we were left alone to anticipate and small-talk and guess when you would arrive.
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I was induced because Mommy had a tiny
nervous break down at the Doc's office on Tues...my last visit. I still had not dilated and wanted you to come that weekend. I just wanted everyone to be there and welcome you, so I thought Friday was perfect.
I'd had a wonderful pregnancy. I was active, healthy and feeling amazing. I never experienced the horror stories of most pregnant women. I only witnessed morning sickness a handful of times, I only craved delicious things (baked potatoes from Wendy's with A-1 on top...delish)! I had no backaches until 32 weeks, no ankle swelling until the my final month and then twas hell. Heartburn lasted for a hot minute after eating pizza....once. My blood pressure stayed normal until the very last week.
Rather than waiting to contract naturally, my doctor booked me an appointment for induction at 10pm on Aug 9th, four days before my due date....because I begged and pleaded with her:)
Daddy watched TV as we waited (we had a flat screen....very impressive). At first it was fun but slowly I stopped listening and started watching the clock. Watching. Watching. (cue Jeopardy! theme.) We both fell asleep and the next morning the bubbly nurse came in and smiled and said those magic words, "Dr Innes called in the epidural already, so it will be here shortly". "Ummmm...ok! Let's get this show on the road!" Minutes later, twitching and sub-zero temperatures aside, I was haaaaaaaaapppppy. Thhhhhhaaaaaaaank you kindly, man with neeeeeeeedle! A couple of hours later they gave me petocin to induce labor....and nothing. We waited hours for something to happen. Contractions would come and go on top of each other but I did not feel a thing. The nurses held facial-expression charts up to me to see what my pain was and every single time I made the "normal face" as in, "I FEEL NOTHING." A part of me thought my pain threshold was superhuman, that I wouldn't feel a thing....then I remembered I was on drugs. Ahhh, medicine in the western world is a miraculous thing! I waited another couple hours, ate 675429 popsicles and asked your Daddy to find new ways to make me laugh. Boredom can be worse than agonizing pain and I was beginning to think you would never show your sweet little face. I started whining.
A moment later, a sweet little thing, who couldn't have been older than 20, came in and introduced herself to us. She checked me and said sadly that I was still a 3. A THREE???! That translates to nothing. Nada. Zilch.
"Three centimeters still. You have not changed since you arrived", she said.
"Oh. Um, great news, thanks lady. Look forward to you checking me again, soon. Next time please bring me a push-pop"....in my sweetest voice possible.
So somewhere between the hours of 4 and 8pm, everything got fuzzy. I remember them putting a fetal monitor on your head (still inside me...how crazy is that?)....I remember dilating to a big, fat, whopping "6"...it took a BAZILLION HOURS, but hey, I DID progress! I remember actually feeling contractions and them making me turn on my side every half hour. I remember a nurse checking me and then 4 other nurses came in quickly to help her find your heart beat, and I looked at your Daddy's face, he was white as a ghost. The Doctors came in and told me that they needed to take you out because you didn't like the petocin and your heart rate was dropping.
By this time I was in some pain( I would pick the #7 smiley face) and I couldn't catch my breath. Me and your Daddy refused lamaze classes because, as far as we knew, the couples that took lamaze classes included men with whistles around their necks and "#1 Coach" t-shirts and the women didn't see the humor in nursing plastic babies. Me and your Daddy would be kicked out on day one for accidentally making fun of everyone. This, my son, is what was going through my head when they said they needed to take you out. Why oh why didn't I take that dumb class? I hear they teach you to focus on an object and I really needed to focus on something. Instead, your Nana came in and calmed me down and your Daddy and I made a quick decision.
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I started crying. Not because I was afraid, but because I was about to meet you.
They wheeled me into the O.R. and I was at peace. Everything was white and silver and immaculate. Daddy was right beside me in his cute "Daddy Duds"....I remember shaking from the epidural and your Daddy trying to make me stop. After a few minutes....there it was...the three words I had been longing to hear for 9 incredible months...."It's a boy!" and "Congratulations!" and "He's beautiful!" and all of the things doctors and nurses say. August 10th, 2007 7lbs 6 oz, 21 inches, 10:59 p.m....I heard those words!
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They wrapped you like a pig in a blanket and handed you to Daddy. He handed you to me and I was shaking so badly, I thought I was going to drop you! It was the medicine. There you were. Perfection. Staring me in the face. You made these little meows like a kitten. The anesthesiologist took our very first family photo.
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We were then wheeled into the recovery room and were greeted with all our loved ones. They all loved on you and oooohed and ahhhhed. You poor, poor baby. You were starving and looking for a boob! Finally, the nurses closed the doors to leave the three of us alone. I looked at your Daddy and smiled with you in my arms and nursed you for the very first time. It was the most incredible experience that I have ever witnessed. Your bare skin was touching mine and oh, sweet angel, I could've lived in that moment forever!
Yesterday I was the daughter of my parents, today I am the mother of my child. We were the three of us, a family, and days and years flashed like blank slides. I couldn't wait for them to materialize, yet I wanted time to stand still.
I slept with you in my arms in the hospital because I didn't want you to sleep in a plastic thing. I stared at you for days, sleep deprived and totally in awe of your beauty. I talked to you like we were old friends. I cried in your hair and whispered secrets in your ear. You listened and fell asleep while I rubbed your nose.
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You woke up and looked at me with your huge eyes and I was in shock. I could have sworn we had met somewhere before. You know, before all of this...
And for the next few days as I healed and spent the nights studying your little face in the hospital and as flowers came and family members and friends and all the joy of your arrival- first child, first grandchild, first great grandchild and trying to breastfeed and wrap you up like a cake and mark you with a B and all of the nurses trying to teach me and all of the advice and the overwhelmingness of it all and how I didn't even listen to anyone because I would figure it out my OWN way, our way.
I read all the books, but nothing can prepare you. The only manual we ever read was for the car seat. The empty car seat in the back seat on our way to the hospital soon to be a car seat full of life...your AMAZING little life, on our way home.
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It took us an hour to make sure you were secure and safe in that car seat and that everything was perfect. We argued and fussed about the speed we would drive and I probably cried and made a scene until finally we left the parking lot.
We drove home slowly. You're Daddy was so very careful and he ignored all the honks and yelling of those trying to pass us on the highway. I was sitting beside my new baby as the world sped by, rubbing my saggging suddenly-empty belly, in awe of life and how one person became two, overnight.
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One year ago, today, you were born. I was bursting at the seams and weighed in at two hundred-ish pounds. I wanted you to be a boy so badly I secretly wrote letters to you before I knew. Remind me one day when you're older and I'll give them to you. Everyone told me that you were going to be a girl and when Dr Haddock gave me my ultrasound and told me that I had been right all along, I burst into tears. Being pregnant with you was my most amazing experience. I leaned over and spoke to you every day so you would know my voice. And even in that last month, sweaty, swollen, and anxious I adored knowing that you were growing inside of me, my little man.
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When you smiled for the first time I couldn't believe that such a thing was possible, a little person, part of me, so new, experiencing such a feat! You were awestruck when your Dad picked you up and talked to you.....you still are.
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You would stare into space, even now, oblivious of people oohing and ahhing and waving at you. Too busy thinking, understanding, dreaming. My thoughtful little boy.
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The first time you laughed was when I did bicycle with your little legs. I couldn't believe it and called everyone, wanting them to hear it firsthand, but you were shy when I held up the phone and you still are.
Some of my favorite times have been waking up with you in the middle of the night and bringing you into bed with us. You would snuggle close and fall asleep with your hand on my face. And when I leave you with your Dad, I bring a book of photos with me so I can look at them at stoplights and pine for you. Sometimes I show strangers at work, because I am that mom, and one day I'm sure you will roll your eyes at me because I'm so uncool.
And every now and then I sneak into your room and watch you sleep and sometimes you are smiling, dreaming again. And sometimes when you see me get upset you start to cry, because that is what happens when two beings are attached to each other, and it always makes me stop and make a silly face, so that you will laugh, because your happiness matters more than mine does and that is the way it is now.
I love you more every day, my little bubba, my angel face. Today you are one year old, little punkin', miracle, Mr. Man. Little cuddle-bear, stinky-butt, feet-stomping pilgrim, laughing-goose, hoot-owl, head-butting sleepy bear, precious prince. You are my love, my light, my life. Every day you overwhelm me with joy and wonder. I praise God every night for letting me be your Mommy, I can't believe you are even real sometimes.
Happy Birthday, Son! To your very first year of life and many, many more!
~Mommy
