***Originally written 6/28/09****
Two years ago today, my son was born.
For those who didn’t follow the tumultuous situation that led to this remarkable day, Kim was stuck on bed rest in the hospital for five weeks after labor started very prematurely. Then, she was on bed rest for two additional weeks at home before she was finally told to get up out of bed and walk around the house for a couple of days till Robbie was born. When we first went in to the hospital on May 5th, I asked the doctor what best-case scenario was. She said that it would be five weeks of hospital bed rest, and then Kim could rest at home until the baby was born, but she seriously doubted that would be the case. When that was the case, she told us it was a miracle, and that only prayers could have kept that baby developing safely for that long.
Two years ago today, Robbie was born a full pound and a half heavier than the minimum safe weight we’d prayed for. He was born with no premature birth defects whatsoever. As newborns go, he was pretty much perfect.
Two years ago this morning, I was dressing for work when Kim told me she was going to go in to the doctor because she thought contractions might be starting up again. I was perfectly ready to call in to work that day and go with her, but she told me it was probably nothing, that this had already happened once since she got home from the hospital and they’d ended up sending her home, no labor, no baby. I was skeptical, but at her assurance I went to work while she went to Texas Women’s with her mom.
You know how they say a woman just knows when it comes to this sort of thing? Sometimes, they’re wrong ;-)
As I was introducing the kids at our children’s theatre to Ta-Daa, the acting bug, my phone in my pocket started to vibrate. I checked it while Ta-Daa was acting out a wolf just long enough to see that it was my wife calling. She knew not to call me at work unless it was an emergency, so I was pretty sure right away what was up. I hurried through the rest of our pre-show spiel and got backstage to check my voicemail. I called Kim back, and she said that I had best hurry to the hospital, because our baby boy was coming.
“You’re sure?” I asked with just a touch of I-told-you-so, but only playfully so.
Checked out with the SM and hurried to the hospital, making sure to drive as quickly as I could within legal parameters (though I did cut through a couple of parking lots on the corners of red lights). At one point I called and asked if I should get lunch on the way, since it was near lunchtime, and Kim said the nurses had told her mom not to go back to our apartment and get the camera, as she might miss the birth, so I sped along without eating, calling just about everybody I could think of on the way.
The rest of the morning/early afternoon is the sort of thing you go to a mommy-blog to read, so I won’t go into a lot of detail on it here. It was amazing, let’s just say that. And a few hours later, we were parents.
And two years later, we’re still parents. And we’re stuck this way for the rest of our lives ;-) Today has been a joy. We didn’t do anything spectacular, really, and I think they did most of the festive-type stuff while I was napping. (I only surmise this because I woke up and most of the Wall-E brownies were already gone) Robbie got his first bike, some new clothes, some books, a dragon, and a singing card. (Oh, the joy that is the singing card) He doesn’t really grasp why he’s getting presents today, and even though we sing the happy birthday song I don’t think it will be until next year that he figures out what happy birthday really means. (It’ll throw him even more for a loop when we have another birthday with my parents next week and yet another next weekend when Kim’s immediate family comes down)
Today, however, is a day for looking back and remembering. And looking forward, of course. And for finally realizing all of the joy packed into that little phrase that is often tagged onto the end of that most popular of songs: “And many moooooooore!”