I have said before that I hope this blog is still around when my kids are grown. I also hope that they will actually read all of my posts one day. From the funny ones that made me LOL to the heartfelt entries that were typed, as tears streamed down my cheeks. Every post means something to me.
I also hope that collectively the posts give my children insight into me and my role as their mother. I want them to know how much I loved them, how much I did for them and especially how crazy they drove me, every single day. Even still, motherhood = worth it 1000%.
Today is my son’s birthday. We call him Middle Man because he is our middle son. I wanted to write a post for him about the story of the beginning of his journey. Because if your blogger mother doesn’t put your personal business into print, then you aren’t really living.
In 2007, as a family of four, we moved to Tennessee after my husband received a promotion from work. The thought of leaving home was terrifying. I had lived in small town Alabama since I was six years old. I was a new stay at home mother, with two small children, who was moving away from family and friends. My husband would be working every day and I would not have my support system.
So naturally I decided to get pregnant. Okay, that’s not exactly how it happened. We did want a third child eventually because clearly we weren’t trying to avoid getting pregnant. The timing was just a little crazy. So to recap, new state, new home, no family/friends, two babies and another on the way. Huge life changes.
We all adapted to life in our new town. My pregnancy was fairly easy, as they all were fortunately. Our baby boy was actually due on December 2 but to make it easier for everyone (especially the one who was as big as a barn), I was set up for induction on Friday, November 30. That way there would be no surprises and Baby Daddy could spend the weekend with his third child, instead of worrying about work. Fabulous.
We arrived at the hospital at dark-thirty that morning and completed paperwork. Once I was placed in a labor and delivery room, I put on my sexy backless gown and got settled, ready to wait. I was given medication to encourage my body to speed up the labor process around 8 A.M.
For the next few hours I sat on that hospital bed enjoying the peace and quiet, as my other two kids were with Grandma. I was no novice. I knew that this would be the last time I would rest for months. Maybe years. I watched TV and chatted with my hubby. As the labor process began to be more effective, I opted for an epidural, because my philosophy is intense pain is not really my thing.
There is nothing like pain-free laboring, just waiting on your baby. I was full of excitement and anticipation. Then the time came for me to start pushing. By the third delivery I was much more experienced in the pushing process. Two nurses were in the room with me. My husband, mother and mother in law, as well. Everyone anxious to meet our newest family member.
After a couple of what I later learned were extremely productive pushes, the nurses signaled for me to stop pushing. Like, right now. And I am pretty sure she told me to please not sneeze. The other nurse rushed to find the doctor, as apparently our baby was about to make his entrance.
I managed not to sneeze and a couple of minutes later, in rushed the doctor, ready to help bring a person into the world. Is there any better job? I won’t go into the details of labor as I am sure you either already know or don’t want to know. I will say that I only pushed a couple of times. At about the 9 minute mark, the doctor had a look of concern on her face. I was unaware, as I was pushing and also not trained to watch for signals coming from the internal baby monitors, that the baby’s oxygen levels were dropping.
Then it became clear that this delivery would go a little faster than expected. In an effort to get the baby out quicker…well lets just say….snip, snip. Instead of Dad getting to cut the umbilical cord this time, the doctor did, because apparently sweet, little Jonathan had the cord wrapped around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply.
It still haunts me to this day that there was a time when babies in his position wouldn’t have survived delivery. Thankfully our baby was healthy because of the doctor’s quick reaction. Our baby just needed a little extra help making his entrance into the world. And he made that entrance at 1:18 P.M. Jonathan was my heaviest baby, weighing in at eight pounds and fourteen ounces. He had blue eyes, a little bit of dark hair, and he was absolutely perfect.
Jonathan, that is the story of your birth. You were my easiest delivery by far and with your people-pleasing nature, I wouldn’t expect anything less. You may only be nine years old now, but you have already brought us so much joy. As a little child you always wore a huge smile.
I do wonder sometimes if you missed out on being the baby for long enough, as we discovered that you would have a baby sibling when you were only five months old (but we will save Luke’s story for January). I never knew if you were an amazing baby because you just were or because you had no other choice. Either way you are such a light in this world and I am so proud to be your mother. I love you.
P.S. When you get older and wonder why there are recordings of the other three kids births and not yours, I can vouch for your father when he says the camera erased the disk and malfunctioned. It did. And he was devastated. True story.