My one and only was born. I always tell him the story on his birthday, but last night I told it to myself, since he always complains about hearing it. I remember the labor, the panic when I was told I was going to have the c-section, the way I wouldn’t give him up that night, though I was so groggy. I remember Mom calling the room (I had a private room by pure coincidence) telling me she wouldn’t be coming that night, though she’d been there throughout the day. She had a tired two-year-old, see. I remember Fred left a lot to go smoke.
I remember everyone coming the next day to visit and I was just miserable. I remember the hospital gave us a steak dinner the night before we went home and I threw it all up.
I remember coming home to a house I’d cleaned to the last corner, putting Josh to bed and thinking, now what? And then he woke up in the middle of the night and I had used all the pre-mixed bottles the hospital had given us and had to mix formula myself and Josh was crying and I was crying and Fred was sleeping (yet we’ve made it 25 years).
I remember Mom didn’t have AC in her Taurus wagon so she and my grandmother couldn’t come visit and bring my baby brother and I MISSED them.
I remember getting a call from the curriculum department at school telling me that I NEEDED to come to this inservice and it was important and when I said I’d just had a baby they were so nice to me.
Okay, getting weepy. Here are pictures. I haven’t hooked up the scanner, so I took pictures of pictures, lol!
Excuse me while I go bawl my eyes out.