Stupid Things We Think of on the Last Day of Life as we Know It

I can’t remember whether it was a kinder, less-humid July day in Virginia than most, but I don’t remember being miserable that morning. It’s funny, but I don’t remember being nervous either. Merely annoyed that my doctor had told me to call at 6:00 a.m. and then told me to call back around 8:00 a.m. (or maybe 10:00) to see whether I should come in.

I was annoyed because they wanted to induce me a week early due to my incompetent cervix and pregnancy-related high blood pressure, and since my baby wasn’t going to choose his own birthday, I wanted July 4th more than July 5th. No offense to the fifth day of July, but it felt like a bummer day. The day after all the fun. The day of no fireworks, and your barbeque is already leftovers and not as good. You wouldn’t want to risk the potato salad either (one of the best things about barbeque if you have any taste at all), knowing it was on the table outside for maybe too long an entire day ago.

If they were going to make me choose between July 4 and July 5, I wanted the 4th of July and having them put me off from coming in felt like it could ruin that dream.

Ah the stupid things we think of on the last day of life as we know it, huh?

I mean, in hindsight, I realize I should’ve been offering sacrifices and prayers of relief to the pregnancy goddesses to thank them for the fact I made it almost full-term, having been warned that merely walking my dog while pregnant could mean my baby would basically fall out ot me. But instead, I was annoyed I woke early for no reason, and that his birthday might be on July 5. Stupid, right?

Anyway, we did finally get permission to go to the hospital, and I was annoyed again that they wouldn’t let me walk around, and that they waited until almost dinnertime to induce me. Oh, and that was after they punctured my spinal column with the epidural so I couldn’t feel my left leg at all but was able to feel every contraction fully and completely. Plus, I hadn’t been allowed to eat anything since the night before so I may have been a teeny tiny bit cranky. Maybe.

Then, my husband almost missed his birth completely.

It worked out though, and while I thought I was prepared for being a mom, I was shocked when the hospital told us we could take him home. “What are we supposed to do with him?” and “You’re just gonna let us leave???” came out of my mouth more than once.

But take him home we did, and I sat in the backseat of the car next to him. For months, actually.

Out of all the experiences and passageways that changed me, the day I became a mom changed me most of all.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post with the prompt of “The day that changed me…” and while this post is short, I feel like I’ve written about becoming and being a mom a lot. Even last week.

I was going to list some of the posts about my son’s birthday, the birth, being a mom, being a special needs mom… but after I started making a list, I realized just about every post on this blog is about being a mom. So I’ll leave it here – the day I became a mom changed me most of all. I’m grateful to be this particular boy’s mom. Always. xoxo
— Kristi