As every year goes by, I feel that undeniable bitter sweetness that almost every mother knows. Watching your child grow and experience all that life has to offer at his age induces smiles and tugs at heart strings. Then the moment hits when you realize another year has gone by and your baby is no longer, your toddler is no more, the preschooler you love has entered school, and this cycle of growing up is never going to end. You delight in the changes and yet your heart breaks as well. The time is rushing by at warp speed and there is no way to turn off the overpowered thrusters of time, from newborn to 18 in no time flat.
Birthdays are meant for reminiscing, looking ahead, and celebration. My mind has travelled back in time to the early hours of March 14, 2003. I remember staying up to visit with my Mom, who was of course visiting Maine to await her first born grandchild, and going to bed much later than I should have. I had a few contractions through the evening, but we assumed they were nothing more than Braxton Hicks. Evidently, we were wrong. No more than a few hours later, I awoke with a jolt, jumped out of bed, and felt my water break. Phone calls were promptly made and I grabbed a quick shower before we headed to the hospital.
The snow was falling as we drove along in those dark early morning hours. Unbelievably, the ride was fairly calm aside from a few contractions. We arrived and a nurse questioned if my water had indeed broken as another gush took place. She no longer felt the need to question me at that point. C took care of insurance forms as I was prepped for the long haul of labor. During this time, I began to black out and the fetal heart monitor strapped to my belly went a little crazy. Thankfully the nurses quickly had me taken care of and determined that the heart monitor may have slipped from the correct spot, as everything looked just fine with my baby boy. My labor story, and Pitocin enhanced contractions, continued throughout the day. Around midnight, the doctors convinced me to let them give me an epidural and attempt to rest as much as possible through the night. By 5 am the following morning, after broken sleep, I was wide awake. Shortly afterwards, the epidural wore off on my right side. By noon on March 15, 2003 it was clear that I was not progressing and discussion of a c-section began. As I was unable to dilate much more than 1cm, we had no choice but to proceed with the cesarean. After an attempted spinal, I still had some feeling in my right side, but it was time for my son to greet the world regardless. On March 15, 2003, over 36 hours after my water broke, my eldest son, O, was born.
I'll never forget the emotions that ran through me on those two exhausting days. The most powerful one was nothing less than love. Having O changed my life in a way that no one else ever could have. I am blessed.
Happy 7th birthday to my child, my son, my O!
I love you buddy!