Hippy Bathday to Me!

Today I am 27. I don't feel any older than I did at 24, 25, or 26. In fact it's hard for me to remember all of my birthdays. I remember some as a kid, the orange nail polish my aunt Sherri got me for my 13th. The cakes, the hot summer parties, with all the family milling around talking and visiting. The Rocker Barbie I got for one birthday, I also got a George Michael t-shirt (yes I'm admitting this) and a molly ringwald poster. I remember my 19th birthday pretty well. I was pregnant with Brenden. He was due July 2, 1997. I was huge and swollen. I had retained so much water I felt like a water bottle. I remember not doing a whole lot that day, just sitting around being miserable. My ex husband had to work that night so there was nothing planned but for me to go down to my mom's which I did every night that he worked and he would pick me up when he got off. That afternoon my Granny called, asked how I was doing and wished me happy birthday. I remember walking outside and watering my plants while I talked to her on the phone. I looked at the sky and we talked about rain. How we needed rain and how it looked like it could storm. After the phone call with Gran my ex and I stood in our drive looking at our yard for a few minutes. I remember he was wearing his bright turquiose shirt. We then got into the bright turquoise car and he took me the block to my mom's. When getting out of the car I felt this funky *pop* as I stood up. I didn't pay much attention other than to note it and go on into the house. I walked in, talked to mom a couple of minutes and then went to go use the bathroom. I felt like I had to pee and I even felt as though I had peed myself a little. This was nothing new, because everytime the baby moved it seemed I peed my pants. Dad was in the bathroom and when he's in there "roosting" he can be there a while. Who needs a library when there is a bathroom? Anyway, back to my story. Dad was on the throne so I went down to the shop bathroom. This is not the bathroom at the Hilton. This is a dirty nasty oil field bathroom. Now, I have to give my mom credit, she did keep it as clean as possible, but it was still dirty. I went down there and used it, but when I stood up I "peed" on myself even more. I thought to myself, did my water break? Surely not. I go up to the house and tell mom what's going on. She thinks we should go to the hospital so we tell Dad and thirty minutes later he comes out of the bathroom. Dad doesn't think we should go. He doesn't want it to be a false alarm. After a few minutes of leaking fluid we decide it's time. I call Theo at Taco Bell, and ask him to tell the ex where I am going. Away to Valley View we go. At the hospital the ex meets us shortly after we arrive. I am tested by the nurse there, and sure enough it's amniotic fluid. I then have an IV started and a lovely drug called pitocin induced into my blood stream. Pitocin is used to speed labor and harden contractions. It hurts like a mean bitch to put it nicely. Hours go by and the pitocin doses keep getting larger. My labor doesn't progress at all. I have only dilated to a mere 4 cm. The doc then does an epidural, the ex and I both hated the anesthialogist. He was such an asshole. I was then numb from the waist down. I still didn't progress. After 16 hours I was taken into the operating room where I gave birth via c-section to a beautiful baby boy. He was the most wonderful present I've ever gotten for my birthday.

Tommorrow is his birthday. I have to work. I hope to have him a party this weekend. It's hard to believe that my baby boy will be 8 years old. He is such a kind and caring person. Yes, he farts and pipes up "guilty" and he baits his sister and then tattles when she goes ballistic. He also asks if she wants him to carry her up to the house when she gets a thorn scratch on her knee. He also will come up to me and give me a big hug and tell me he loves me out of no where. He will let his sister sleep in the middle so that she won't be scared. He will hold my hand while we are driving and tell me about games he likes to play. He is the sweetest boy I know, and I'm so proud he is mine. Those big blue eyes smiling at me. I love the way he laughs and the way he is so mush like me when it comes to just letting hurtful things go. I watch him play with his dog, running around with his shirt off, insisting on wearing jeans in the summer and I know that he will be a good man. I will do my best in seeing that he will make a good husband, father, and friend.