The Quiet One

3 years and 2 days after the birth of my first child, we eagerly awaited the birth of our second child. This time around I wasn't leaving anything to happenstance, so I asked the doctor to induce labor on my due date. Things were so different when I was expecting my second child. I had to make arrangements for my Mom to be here to help with my daughter, and I felt like everything had to fit into everyone else's schedule... So being induced seem the most logical thing (Ha!). While the nurse got me settled in, my husband goes down to the gift shop to get some magazines and maybe something to eat. When he comes back, the drip is going, I'm hooked up to all of the monitors and everything looks like a go for the launch sequence to begin. Since the birth of my daughter went so smoothly and quick, I'm expecting the same will be true for this birth as well..... After all, I'm a pro now. My husband was way more relaxed this time around as well. In fact he may have been just a tad bit cocky about the whole thing since he survived the last birth with no physical injuries. He sat over in the chair next to my bed flipping through his magazines when the contractions began. When a contraction would come along, he'd watch the monitor, then casually go back to his reading. It didn't take long before the contractions started to hurt. It all started coming back to me about this point..... Somehow over the last three years I had forgotten that labor feels like someone has a vice grip around your middle and they are trying to squeeze you till your head pops off. I'm starting to get, well.. to get a little pissed off at this point. Hubby's over there reading his magazine like a king on his throne while I'm having the ever loving guts squeezed out of me!!! He is being way to calm about this and I'm just about ready to tell him just where he can put those friggin magazines when the nurse runs (and I do mean run)into my room. Her eyes are wide as she grabs the oxygen mask and slaps it on my face and tells me to breath deep. She throws the head of the bed all the way down and jacks the foot of the bed all the way up and runs out of the room only to run back into the room bringing more people with her. She seems a little frantic which is kind of freaking me out and she tells my husband the baby is in distress and they are going to do an emergency c-section. The anesthesiologist comes and with great urgency grills my husband about how many ice chips I had so far... hmmm, guess someone should have been paying closer attention. In what seems like a matter of seconds we went from calm and collected to praying desperately for our baby's life. Before I knew it I was in the surgery room as the lights began to fade and all I could think about was if my baby would make it....   I just have one question.... Why the heck do nurses scream at you when you are waking up from surgery. There you are in this nice dark place feeling so cozy and carefree and they walk over to your bed and is it my imagination, or do they say in the loudest possible voice.... MRS. PATTERSON!!!!! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!!!!! YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL BABY BOY!!!! MRS. PATTERSON, MRS. PATTERSON!!! (When I get out of this fog I'm going to give that nurse a wake-up call!) Then I hear the sweet voice of my husband whisper... Jac, we have a boy. Wake up Jac, we have a boy. My eyes didn't seem to want to cooperate with me, neither did my voice, but I just had to know.... I had to know now..... "Is the baby ok? Is he going to be ok?" I vaguely remember being able to see my husband through hazy eyes as he held my son over for me to see for myself that he was Perfect.Perfect little fingers, perfect little toes and a perfect button nose. The next day I'm laying in the hospital bed watching my perfect little boy sleep soundly in the bassinet next to my bed. My husband comes in and asked "How is he doing?" I look up at him with a dreamy unknowing in my eyes and say something that he has never let me forget.... "He's going to be our quiet one."

I Hate to be Late Especially for a Birth Date

I hate to be late... It's a huge pet peeve of mine. On a typical work day, I arrive 30 minutes early. If I'm on time for something, then I feel late and can be terribly fussy with whomever has made me "on time". So, when the doctor told me my due date for my first child was June 15th, I believed it was June 15th. He may have looked at that as an estimate, I looked at it as set in stone. On June 14th the nursery was completely finished, clothes folded and in the drawers, Nana and Papa on standby and me willing and ready to get the show on the road. Since I hadn't even had one contraction, my husband and I took a long walk downtown to spur things along. As he waddled me back home, I had to sit and rest on the curb before continuing.  I stubbornly refused a ride from a friend because..... well, because I was stubborn. When I woke up on June 15th I was already somewhat discouraged since I felt perfectly fine and by noon I was getting terribly concerned. If the birthing instructor was correct, and I was in labor 12 hours or more, than that would be pushing the baby's birth closer to tomorrow than today...  In my books that was late and I was not a happy camper. When my husband left to go back to work, he gave me a hug and told me not to worry and then bent toward my belly to offer a stern warning to it's occupant that things would go much smoother if everyone was on time. He headed back to work and I headed to my Mother-In-Law's house to wash laundry since our washer was on the blink. When I returned home from her house I felt a twinge in my mid-section and literally remember saying to myself.... "I wonder if that is what labor feels like." I thought to myself.... "after General Hospital goes off, if I'm still aching, I'll call my Mother-in-Law to describe the ache and see what she thinks." That was a funny phone call! Talk about getting someone who is usually very calm and subdued riled up about something, that phone call did the trick. She instructed me to hang tight she was on her way. I calmly called my husband and my parents to let them know that although I wasn't that hopeful, I would go ahead and let her take me to the hospital just to be sure. When Virginia, who is probably 5'4" and 98 pounds soaking wet comes to the house, she is a little ball of fire. I have never, nor did I ever again see her in such a state of excitement. She refused to allow me to even carry my own pillow and guided and pushed me into the car like we were fleeing an alien invasion. When we got to the hospital she ran around and opened my door, jerked my pillow out of my arms and started issuing instructions. This is one of those moments where you would just have to have known her and how quiet she was to truly understand how hysterically funny it was to see her this way. We got to the hospital at 5:00, which by my standards was WAY behind schedule. My husband arrived and we settled in for what we expected to be a long process...... Wrong! My first child was just as keen on promptness as her Momma. After a mere 3 hours of labor, my daughter fought her way into the bright lights and steel surroundings of the delivery room. She entered this world with plenty of expression and like her Momma never hesitates to speak her mind or prove her point. I'll never forget seeing her Daddy lean over the bassinet they placed her in. Her flailing hands found his finger and a sudden hush fell over her as he began to sing the ABC song just as he had done every night. Her round little face, red from all the squalling, quieted as her eyes searched frantically for the voice she knew.

Today those little hands grip the barrel of a M240 as she sails into foreign ports on the destroyer she proudly serves on.  Today those little eyes search the horizon for anything that would threaten the security of the land that she loves. Still today her ability to express herself has come in handy as she copes with being a woman in a very male environment. Happy Birthday Sissy!!! I know you love to hear your birth story on your birthday, but since you are away this year I put it here for you to see when you return home. June 15th, the day we welcomed you into our world and one of the happiest days of my life. Love you tons and bunches..... Momma

Happy Birthday Caleb

There is no greater joy in life than being a Mother. There is no greater joy in life than carrying a life inside of you, protecting it, nurturing it and then giving birth. The first moment you hear that little cry it's hard to describe the complete devotion that overwhelms you. 10 perfect fingers, 10 perfect toes, little button nose and wrinkles in all the right places, perfection from the flawed; a miracle of miracles. 15 years ago today I experienced this for the last time. I remember cuddling Caleb up close to me and sleeping with him in the hospital, soaking in every precious second. In the blink of an eye it seems like the years have passed. I miss the cuddles but it's exciting to see the young man he is growing into. Happy birthday to my quiet one.... Love Momma