Tags: birth story birthdays Mom of Boys motherhood
My baby boy turned four last Sunday.I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that I have a four-year-old. Feels like we just celebrated his first birthday, then I blinked and he’s four. I wish I could freeze time and keep him little forever. Is someone working on a time freezer? I’d be interested in investing if they are.
We took a road trip to ride the Polar Express train last weekend for his birthday, and on the way home we were reminiscing about the day he was born.
We had just moved to Virginia when we found out I was pregnant. We were over the moon. He was planned, and we had only been trying for three months. I don’t think either of us expected it to happen so quickly. All the books said to expect to try for at least six months before hearing anything. I guess he was just ready to greet the world.
Like a good little pregnant girl, I read ALL the books. I knew everything that was happening, that was going to happen, and that could happen. I read and studied like there was going to be an exam—I was going to ace this pregnancy thing. To my great relief, it went well for the first few weeks after we found out. We had just moved into our new apartment in downtown Norfolk and I had all the energy I needed to set up house and start planning a nursery. I couldn’t figure out why so many women I knew had complained so much during their pregnancies…then it all hit me at once.
I got morning sickness so bad I thought for sure I would die before my child ever saw the light of day. Everything made me sick. There where only two things I could keep down and that was Grape Nut cereal and Carl’s Jr’s/Hardee’s cheeseburgers (but only the cheeseburgers off the kid’s menu…nothing else). I lived off Grape Nuts for weeks, with the occasional cheeseburger thrown in as a treat. It was terrible, but it got a whole lot worse.
We lived in an old historic building that had been converted into loft apartments. It was the coolest building. Each unit had 12-foot ceilings, exposed duct work, exposed brick, old elevator shafts that had been converted into storage closets. And the apartments themselves were massive—easily the largest 2-bedroom apartment I’ve ever seen. To keep things tidy, a cleaning service came in the common areas of our building, the main area, the hallways and the landings. It was a well-kept building and I appreciated that. Unfortunately, they’d leave an air freshener on each landing (just outside our front door) after cleaning. They were the enclosed solid gels whose fragrance strength could be adjusted or closed by a mere twisting of the top. They were always left cranked open. And the landings on each floor were not large—not nearly large enough for such a strong air freshener.
That smell—the one that came from the air freshener—was my #1 morning sickness trigger. Every time I stepped out of the apartment and onto the landing, I would get sick. The smell was so strong it actually started seeping into the apartment. I was throwing up all day long from that smell. I shoved towels along the bottom of the front door thinking I could stop the smell from coming into the apartment. It reduced the smell but didn’t eliminate it. I got so fed up that I walked out to the landing and closed the darn air freshener. But, apparently, our neighbor liked the smell because the next time I went out, it was opened. The next few days were a constant battle of wills between neighbors. I would close it and she would open it. I would close it and she would open it.
I realized that this woman was just as stubborn as I was. It was time to put the matter to rest. I grabbed the air freshener, climbed the stairs to the roof-top terrace and threw that bad boy off the roof and into the large trash bins behind our building. Case closed. I had won the fight.
FALSE! I had NOT won. By the end of the day there was a brand-new air freshener in our landing…oh so proudly filling the space with it’s toxic fumes. I gave up and just waited for the morning sickness to subside.
Now I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t I just speak with the neighbor and explain the situation. That’s a GREAT question and to this day I have no idea why I didn’t. I blame it on hormones.
In addition to the morning sickness I got just about every other ailment known to pregnant women.
- Back acne– I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t on my face
- Heartburn– never had heart burn in my life and suddenly I’m never an arms reach away from my Tums.
- Leg cramps – they woke me up EVERY night.
- Constipation– and you’d think that living on Grape Nut cereal would have the opposite effect.
- Excess sweating – so embarrassing. I would get dressed and instantly soak through my clothes. I constantly had wet spots around my air pits. It’s that lovely?!
You name it, I got it. It felt like every time I read about some ailment in a book, I’d wake up with that ailment the next morning. How I survived those first four months is beyond me, but suddenly it was over. Everything down to the back acne cleared up and went away. I WAS HEALED!!! It was a miracle.
From that moment on, I had the most wonderful pregnancy. Everyday was magical and filled with the most beautiful moments. We found out we were having a boy and oddly enough nobody was surprised. I think everyone knew we’d have a boy—myself included. We walked into the appointment sure he was a boy and the doctor just simply confirmed the fact.
He kicked late—well, late according to the book. I was reading along in What to Expect When You’re Expecting and, while the book told me I should be feeling him kick by now, I hadn’t felt a flutter. Two weeks went by and I was getting nervous when all of the sudden, he kicked like he was scoring the winning goal for Manchester United. I froze in my tracks, fully aware of what had just happened. As soon as Adrian got home that day, I ran to him and had him put his hand on my belly. We stood there waiting—Adrian still holding his lunch bag and still wearing his boots—for our little soccer star to give us another kick. He kicked, and I’ll never forget the look on Adrian’s face—pure wonder. From that moment on he kicked non-stop. I swore he was going to be a member of Michael Flatley’s Lord of the Dance.
I loved being pregnant. I was excited to meet my little boy, but I was also a little sad that I couldn’t carry him around in my belly forever. We only hit one small hiccup along the way. Mold was discovered in our apartment and renovations had to be done. They voided our lease and we moved to another apartment building two blocks down (one of the benefits of living downtown, there was no shortage of apartments for us to choose in a hurry). It wouldn’t have been an issue if I wasn’t eight months pregnant! Eight months pregnant and we’re packing everything up, moving, and then unpacking all over again. It wasn’t great, but we quickly got settled into our new place with minimal headache.
My due date was December 2ndand my parents had flown in to stay for two weeks hoping to be there for the big day. We spent time showing them around our little downtown/water front area and had a blast taking them to all our favorite spots. We were so happy to have them there. Mid-afternoon on November 29th, we were walking back to our apartment when I suddenly felt a terrible pain in my abdomen—it felt like those pains you get when you’ve eaten something “wrong” and you need to hit the restroom as quickly as possible. I dismissed it as a fluke from lunch since the books all described labor pains differently. Next day, we decided to take a drive to Maryland to meet up with some family friends that were living out there at the time. My mom kept asking, “are you sure you’re OK to go?” I assured her I was because I hadn’t felt a thing. Plus, it was only a day trip.
We drove up, met up with Steve and Debby and they took us to see Annapolis. We walked around downtown, walked through the campus, and had a wonderful time. I still hadn’t felt a thing. We had dinner, said our goodbyes and headed home.
Early morning on December 1st, I was woken up with what I KNEW were labor pains. I woke Adrian up and we jumped out of bed and got dressed. Adrian woke my parents up and we all headed to the hospital. They monitored me for about an hour or so and then sent me home. I wasn’t dilated enough, my contractions were erratic, and far apart. I spent the morning and early afternoon going between warm baths and the couch trying to breath through the pain. My parents ran out and grabbed lunch—I remember sitting on the couch watching Netflix with a cheeseburger on my lap I had no interest in eating. It was the ONLY time in my life I didn’t want a cheeseburger.
By late afternoon, the pain was too much, so we headed back to the hospital. They examined me and decided it was time to admit me. I got settled into my room and a wonderful man walked into my room. He was surrounded by heavenly light and he was there to administer my epidural. The epidural kicked in and I was able to sleep for a few hours before my doctor came in early morning on December 2nd and said it was time to push. I pushed for what felt like six days. On what felt like day twelve, my doctor told me I needed to give her a proper push or she was going to cut off the epidural. That scared me into compliance. I gave one all-mighty push and out he flew into the world.
He was due on December 2nd and he was born on December 2nd. (talk about punctual). He weighed 8 pounds, 2 ounces and 21 inches and was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.
Four years has flown by faster than I could have imagined and he’s grown into such a tenderhearted, funny, sweet little boy. He loves music—if he’s not singing full out, he’s quietly humming a tune. He’s smart as a whip and I can’t wait to see what he grows up to be and the amazing things he accomplishes in life. I’m beyond thankful that God chose me to mother this amazing little human.
Happy Birthday, Liev Jude!
