March 10th, 6:31 pm Alaska time.
The Boy.
March 1992 and Fall 2005.
Today, he is officially old enough to get his Driving Learner’s Permit.
*SOB!*
It was 1992. He cried. OH how he cried. His little face was wrinkly and red and his little head all cone shape and he screamed with his whole body. His daddy cried, His momma cried. And all of us were in awe of this little tiny person we finally got to see, touch, cuddle, console, teach, and learn from.
My baby. My Son. My firstborn. I was in love in a way I never ever thought possible. When I found out I was pregnant, I was scared and worried, and terrified Nana Moosie was gonna be furious. Heh. She was, until I cried, and she pulled me in her lap, and said it was ok. Her firstborn was pregnant with her first grandbaby. We’d make it work. I was 21, unmarried, and Kevin (only 19 years old) and I had only been dating about 6 months. He made the one mistake he appologized for for the entire next 14 years – his first words were “Pregnant? when are we getting married.” And he know how I felt about being ‘forced’ to marry. He never quite forgave himself for that slip, though I did, everytime he mentioned it. *Chuckles* I mentioned we were young, right?
So we started to prepare – but how does one even BEGIN? There were things to get, stuff we needed (Stuff! Everyone needs stuff! Thank goodness for Kmart and Garage sales which had STUFF!) all the while my belly swelled, my ankles swelled, my heart swelled. I spent 48 hours on bedrest when I as 6 months along after a work accident. I quit soon afterwards. I rearranged the nursery 1531029312098 times. I paced, I planned, I hoped. Nana and Papa Moosie gave us the crib – which I still have, and his sister also used, and the nuts and bolts I only found again after the pup was in a big bed – oh well. heh. I have them now waiting for my grandbabies (FAR FAR FAR FAR in the future).
We’d had 2 false alarms that week. And one the month before, as I had contractions all through my Uncle’s funeral. But Uncle G wanted a month of ‘prebirth bonding time’ and we continued to wait. One his due date, March 8th, I had a glass of wine, the first since I’d found out I was pregnant. I was relaxed and warm and happy and we stopped at the store to pick up grocerys. Halfway to the car I felt it – my water had broken. I was driving because Kevin had had more then one glass of wine. He’d been making me sit in the passenger seat on a paper bag cuz he didn’t want to ride in a wetspot on the way to the hospital.
I didn’t tell him till we were home, and I was holding grocerys, and he was unlocking the door. “Um, dear? I think my water broke.” All the movies in the word with panicing fathers couldn’t prepare me for the hilarity that followed! He PANICED “OMG! ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WHAT DO I DO WE HAVE TO GO OMG DO YOU HURT?” And I was not hurting, except for the laughter that made me want to curl up on the steps and hold my belly from the purity of my mirth. We called the hospital and the nurses laughed with me, while Kevin still paniced in the background loud enough for them to hear. We called the families next, and Headed to the hospital, with me telling him to SLOW DOWN ALREADY i wasn’t even contracting, just, yannow, leaking. That’s all.
The surprising thing is that HIS folks, who at the time lived 15 miles farther from the hospital then us, arrived first. She used her volenteer firefighter flashing light to skip the stoplights. heh.
Then, nothing happened. Then the pain started. Then nothing happened. Then the pitocin started. And nothing happened. Then the pain REALLY started, and I decided I wasn’t going to do this. And a little something happened – I made it halfway there. And stopped. And stayed. My body, which had done pregnacy beautifully, flat out REFUSED to give birth to a watermelon through a spot merely grapesized. 28.5 hours of excruciating back labor later, the decision was made, and I was wisked to surgury for a c-section. Kevin was so white and frightened his skin was translucent. I was calm, cool, and ready for it to just END already. The epidural hurt like HELL, but after that, everything was peaches, and at 6:31pm the words were annouced “It’s a BOY!” and we had our beautiful redheaded Irish lad- and thus he was given the name Sean Patrick, a name that I was to have been given had I been a boy.
Nana Moosie couldn’t have been prouder! And papa was beside himself as well! And AUntie – I think she was bouncing off the walls! But all that paled when I held him the very first time. So tiny (7lbs 6.5 ounces, 19 inches long) so angry at first, and then so very calm and quiet. He had a strength even then that awed me, and has only grown every since.
Even when he’s moody and grumpy and all hormonal and driving me insane.
Today is the first time he’s spent his birthday without me. I miss it, but I will see him tomorrow, and I called him first thing this morning to sing him happy birthday with his sister and the twins. And the teachers there with him in DC told all the kids that they had to report to the World Strides room, in the “your in trouble!” kinda voice, and he arrived to see gramma with her camera, a birthday cake, and the gift I’d sent with nana to give to him. He was shocked! Yay! He seemed to be bubbling over when I spoke to him a while ago. I can’t wait to see him walking back through that security gate tomorrow!
So – Happy Birthday, baby boy! Even if your bigger then me now, you’ll always be my baby, my number one son. I love you more then you’ll ever know! Fourteen years we’ve made it – here’s to the next 14!
Just.. do me a favor, and don’t let any other girls steal your heart away from momma for a LITTLE while yet, ok? I’m not quite ready.
But you can keep making me laugh every day – that you can do. You are absolutely the sweetest boy I’ve ever known, and someday those silly girls who haven’t noticed you yet? Will. Then my heart will soar and break everytime that yours does. But we’ll make it through the same way we do everything else…
Together.
I love you!
Momma
