Living the crazy, great life!

My Baby is Six? Impossible!

At midnight tonight, my baby boy turns six years old . . . and that cannot possibly be so!  We celebrated his birthday with a friend birthday party here at our house today.  Four little boys, a big sister, 20 cake pops, countless pretzels, goldfish, tortilla chips and two hours of crazy fun!  Tomorrow night we will have a family celebration with 13 grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, tacos and quesadillas and more cake pops.  We have a tendency to overcelebrate birthdays around our house – as if that were even possible.  I have been known to celebrate my birthday for a whole month!  But, I digress, we were talking about Cole, my darling little boy.

It seems like just yesterday that I had him.  So, to memorialize his actual “birth” day for all of blog history, here’s the story of how he was born . . . literally, so for the male readers of my blog, the contents of this blog may make you a little uncomfortable.  Consider yourself warned! 

Cole’s older sister was six weeks early and as I figured Cole would have a similar birth story and also come early.  I had everything all planned out – he would come early, I’d take off a few weeks off and all would be good.  They say if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.  So, six weeks early came and went, as did five, four, three, two and one.  Now that we were past his due date, I figured Cole was actually an elephant and that his gestation period was going to be 12 months. 

So there I am at work one morning.  I remember interviewing a couple of new agents (they joined my firm, so I must’ve been doing ok), the usual hustle and bustle of a work day with some discomfort which I attributed to being 9+ months pregnant.  In walked my assistant who observed, “You don’t look so good.  Are you ok?”  To which I responded, “I am feeling a little crampy, a little sweaty, but otherwise, feeling great!”  She then asked, “Have you been timing those little cramps?” “No, should I be?”  Now, as an aside, I didn’t really have a regular labor with Emerson (my oldest child).  More like my water breaking and a baby a couple of hours later after a good does of epidural (thus my sister’s nickname for me – The Human Salad Shooter).  So, I started jotting down the times on my desk blotter and sure enough, those pesky little cramps were about 10 minutes apart.  Again, having never been through regular labor, I chalked it up to those Braxton-Hicks contractions and called my OB-GYN.  After a few questions it was decided that I should head to the hospital and see what was up.  But I was hungry and didn’t have any stuff so I said I would head to the hospital after I went home.  At home I proceeded to pack a bag (didn’t even have one prepared even though I was overdue, which was a great indicator of how unprepared I was for the coming of this second child) and had a peanut butter and honey sandwich. Mmmmmm, peanut butter and honey – it’s still my favorite!  But I digress . . .

I called Jeff (my hubby) and said I was heading to the hospital.  He asked if he should come meet me and I replied, “No, go ahead and just finish up your inspection (he is a home inspector).  I’ll call you from the hospital, but I am sure it just those Braxton-Hicks contractions.”  (Can you say denial?!)  Then, I hopped in the car and headed off to the hospital.  About that time, those pesky little cramps were getting stronger and closer together so that by the time I got to the hospital, parked my car and walked up to labor and delivery, I was no longer thinking Braxton-Hicks and was breathing like I’d just run a marathon.  So, I called Jeff back and said, “You may want to get down here sooner rather than later.”  He did, and our bouncing baby boy arrived about a half hour after the daddy arrived at the hospital (again, luckily after a great epidural on board).  Not sure I ever would have been forgiven if Jeff missed the blessed event!

So, Emerson came into the world early, screaming all the way as if she was ready to take on the world (more on her birth story in a couple of weeks when she has her 9th birthday).  Cole on the other hand didn’t make a sound.  It was as if this little baby boy was a totally mellow kid who was ok with coming into the world, but would have been just as happy to stay inside for a while.  In fact, I think he was hanging onto my ribs with his fingers thus the delay!  We were so glad that Cole had finally arrived.  I was definitely ready to have my body back and be done leasing space to this little person!  And even better, we got to take this baby home with us less than 24 hours later (Emerson had to stay in the NICU – Neonatal Intensive Care Unit – for two weeks before we got to bring her home). 

Cole was an easy baby, and has continued to be an easy child.  As I tucked him in to bed tonight and after we said our prayers, I told Cole how happy I was that God gave us him six years before.  He may be growing up so fast (as he tells me almost daily that he is most definitely not my baby, but a big kid), but he will forever and always be my baby boy.  And for this, I am so thankful!

Happy 6th Birthday Cole!  I love you little man!!

Comments on: "My Baby is Six? Impossible!" (1)

  1. Happy Birthday, Cole!

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