Happy 18th Birthday, Son #1!

Son #1 celebrated his 18th birthday today!  To read his birth story, click here.  

So what has he been up to in the past year?  He enjoyed a busy senior year in high school.  He had a very challenging course load (two dual-enrollment classes!), but managed to graduate with a 3.96 weighted GPA!

He was finally invited to attend the State Cross Country Meet as an alternate.  He didn't compete but was thrilled to attend.  He also attend the State Award.  He finally received a varsity letter in Cross Country and his 3rd varsity letter in Wrestling.

He was accepted to, and received scholarships from, several universities.  More on that in another post.

He attended his prom with a blind date (sort of) -- she was a friend of a friend.   He also joined the Powder Puff Spirit Team (the guys were the cheerleaders/dance team; the girls played flag football).  I'll try to post a video soon -- it was too funny!

He made Eagle Scout this year!

He had a blast on his class' senior trip to Disney.  He still isn't excited about driving (he's had his learner's permit for over two years).  He still loves reading, playing video games.  He's looking forward to college.

This seems like just yesterday:

Happy Birthday, Son!  I'm proud of you!

Happy 16th Birthday, Son #2!

Isn't he handsome?  Very sweet and polite, too.  If you're interesting in reading his birth story, click here.

 

What has he been up to in the past year?  Last year, on his 15th birthday, he took his first-ever airplane ride.  He, his dad, another man and a handful of Boy Scouts flew to New Mexico.  They enjoyed 12 days backpacking and hiking in the mountains at Philmont Scout Ranch. 

 

He was inducted in his school's National Honor Society this past spring.  Ironic for boy who doesn't like to read.

 

This year in Track and Field, he joined the pole vaulting team.  He also took his first helicopter ride in a Blackhawk with some JROTC folks.

 

Oh, and he passed his dad up so Son #2 is now the tallest person in our family. 

 

Today, he decided to forgo cake and have a sundae bar instead.  He'll unwrap presents later and probably go see a movie with friends.  Tomorrow we'll take him to dinner at his favorite restaurant (7th year in a row - but they're closed on Mondays).



Happy 16th Birthday, Son #1

To read his birth story, click here.

You are my night owl with a wry sense of humor. Super smart - you'll either end up dominating the world or solving its major problems. :-) You still love books, video games, all things science. You don't enjoy driving, but you have to put that permit to use and practice, practice, practice. Oh, and you rocked in school. 4.0 + GPA, with 3 honors classes. In school, you ran cross country, track and lettered in wrestling. Once you complete the two final merit badges, you'll be an Eagle Scout. Keep up the good work! We're proud of you and we love you.

Happy 14th Birthday, Son #2!

My middle son turns 14 today! If you'd like to read his birth story, click here.

To my son: What a year it's been! You're still as sweet and funny as ever. Smart too. Only one B the entire 8th grade year -- the rest were A's. You took freshman level Algebra, was a Student of the Year runner up, and won a Principal's School Community Leadership Award in your last year of junior high.

You played solid baseball. Coach said you are an excellent utility player: reliable in any position you play: 1st & 2nd base, shortstop, centerfield, left field... He says you have great speed and agility, plus a strong arm. Best of all (to me, at least) is your excellent attitude. No whining in baseball, that's my motto. (Too bad the same can't be said for all of your teammates, but you just keep leading by your example.)

I love you bunches! Happy Birthday!

Happy 14th Birthday, Son #1

Happy Birthday, Son #1! He has really impressed me with his sense of responsibility this summer as he looks after his younger brothers and ensures the chores are done before I get home from my part-time job.

I do miss our really, really late nights watching TV together (until 3 am or later). Since I work Monday - Friday, I just can't keep the same hours that we did last summer. We're both night-owls.

The photo above was taken last year at Boy Scout camp. It's one of my favorites. Dear Hubby and I took him out to dinner at the restaurant of his choosing (Olive Garden). Pasta with marinara sauce, and a whole lot of breadsticks.

If you're interested in reading his birth story, click here.

Happy 12th Birthday, Son #2

Today is Son #2's 12th birthday. Just like last year, he's spending his birthday at Boy Scout camp in the mountains of northern Georgia. Earlier today, I received the call that he's feeling a little under the weather and running a fever of 101. There's a medic tent - doctors and nurses - at camp, but they recommended the 45+ minute drive into town to visit the ER as a precaution.

Apparently there was another scout from different state that came down with flu-like symptoms on Sunday, so I think the medical folks wanted to be extra cautious. (The other scout - and his troop - are segregated away from the rest of the kids).

It's a bummer to be sick on your birthday, but especially when you're missing all the fun camp activities. Fortunately all the cultures came back negative and Son #2 was allowed to leave.

The two adults (troop dads) who took Son #2 to the Emergency Room also took him to a barbecue restaurant. A nice change from the camp mess hall. Probably as big a treat for the dads. Also in attendance was Son #2's best friend (his dad was one of the leaders to accompanied him to the hospital). As you can see from the photo below, he's obviously feeling much better.



That's probably the world's most expensive ice cream sundae. ;-)

He returns home Saturday evening. We'll celebrate his birthday then and take him to his favorite Japanese restaurant for a late dinner. I sent a little gift up with one of the dads who's attending. The rest of the goodies will have to wait until Saturday.

I miss him a lot. He's a very affectionate kid - even at this age (I'd better enjoy it while it lasts, I'm told). He's blessed with a great sense of humor. If you're interested in reading his birth story, click here.

* photos taken with cell phone and emailed to me. A nice treat for me.

A Birth Story (Son #3)

NOTE: For those of you who don't know, I'll be on vacation from Feb. 18-24th. I hope to post again on Monday, February 26th, which just happens to be my birthday, so check back!

Back in June around their birthdays, I posted the birth stories for Son #1 and Son #2. This Sunday is Son #3's birthday so I thought I'd post his birth story. It's hard to believe The Baby is turning 5. I was a working mom until he came along. We had purchased a small home in April 2001 - three bedrooms, two baths, 1163 sf. In June we found out we were expecting Son #3, essentially outgrowing the home we just bought. (We're still living there, though - but it's, um, cozy.)

They say every pregnancy is different. I wasn't sick much at all with Son #3, but I was very tired all the time. I didn't know if it was just fatigue or if it was my age. I napped a lot.

The boys were okay with the idea of a younger sibling, but they were rooting for a brother. They've shared a room at different times in the past and were ready to do so again. As for me, I didn't really have a strong sense whether this baby would be a boy or girl. I knew very early on - even before the ultrasound - with the other two. I sort of figured that law of averages would mean a girl this time and was getting used to the idea. After two boys, one does have to learn to "think pink", I believe. A later ultrasound showed that our future would be blue. Yea! (If I seem partial to boys, it's because they're all I know.)

It was pretty much a textbook pregnancy. There was one visit to the OB in my 7th month that was scary. He thought the baby's heart rate was slightly low. That in itself wasn't alarming, but he poked and prodded at my belly hoping to elicit a reaction (an increased heart rate) from the baby. It didn't work. The nurse fed me cookies and orange juice and had me hang around for 30 or so minutes, in hopes that the baby would get a little sugar rush. Didn't work, either. Doc was a little concerned that the baby was non-responsive so he sent me to the Labor & Delivery ward of the hospital (his office adjoins the hospital, so it was just a brief elevator ride and a short walk).

At the hospital, they hook me up to an even more sophisticated monitor, gave me an IV with something in it - possibly Mountain Dew? (kidding). I was lying there by myself, listening to the hwoo-hwoo-hwoo of the fetal heart monitor, and - because I am who I am - imagining the worst. A Eucharist Minister from our church happened to come by to offer Communion to Catholic patients. We prayed together and he gave me Communion. Just a couple of minutes after he left, the baby's heart rate increased to its more acceptable range *and* he started kicking and moving all around. Hmmmm..... Within minutes, we were sent home.

Later on, I tested postive for Group B strep (as I had with Son #2), which simply means that an antibiotic IV would be administed to me before delivery. Because my job involved a commute of a 24-mile toll bridge, Doc thought I should give up the idea of working right up to my due date, which was Feb. 18. Dear Hubby and I had pretty much decided that I'd quit working when the baby was born, so I left my favorite job two weeks early on February 4th, and haven't regretting it once.

At that point, I was visiting Doc weekly and we were charting my labor progression (I'll spare you the dilating/effacing details). On Friday, Feb. 15th, he mentioned that the volume of my amniotic fluid seems to be decreasing slightly, which is typical as a woman approaches delivery. He said to come back on the Mon. Feb. 18 - my estimated due date - and if nothing much more was happening, he'd like to induce labor. I should point out that back in the Spring when we conceived, there was a lot going on in our lives - buying and moving into a new home, the death of my mother-in-law among them - so I wasn't exactly tracking my monthly cycles. We sort of guessed.

Well, Monday arrives and I visit his office first thing in the morning. Minor dilation, rather effaced, but really not much different from the previous week's visit. He tells me to enjoy my day, not to eat after 3:00 p.m., and to go to the hospital at 7:00 p.m. They'd admit me, start a pitocin drip to jump start the contractions and he'd stop by the next morning on the way to his office and deliver the baby.

I walked around, did a little window shopping, lined up a sitter for Sons #1 and #2, and ate a leisurely lunch at LaMadeleine (salmon salad and a rich chocolate dessert - yum!). The young fellow who served my lunch asked when was the baby due. I'll never forget his face when I told him, "in about 4 hours." :-O Truthfully, during lunch I had a few maybe-Braxton-Hick's contractions, but that was it. I went home, took a shower, shaved my legs, polished my toenails (a diversionary technique that never works - hey, she has such wonderful toe nails that I'm not even noticing her Va-jay-jay!).

Dear Hubby and I arrive at the hospital at 7:00 p.m. as expected, we're shown to our room, I change into my gown - backless is still "in" apparently - and settle in to watch TV. The nurse comes in around 8:00 p.m., looks at my chart, takes a peek at me, doesn't even comment on my pedicure, and says, "Why are we inducing you? You're fully dilated. Would you like your epidural now before we call Dr. T?" Hey, I've done a medicated birth (Son #1), and a natural birth (Son #2). For those of you who prefer the natural route, that's great. More meds for me. ;-)

If you've read the two previous birth stories, you'll realize that I've always had very irregular, inconsistent, yet apparently productive contractions. Not that they weren't painful - some were very much so, while others were barely noticeable. And so it went...

The anesthesiologist arrives around 9:15 p.m., administered the epidural and we wait for Doc. He arrives around 10 p.m., we get to work, and Son #3 is born just before midnight. Interesting that Son #3 did indeed arrive on the due date estimated by Doc, just under his own terms. That's a pattern we've seen repeated a lot over the past five years. And maybe, just maybe, Son #3 was getting even for all Doctor T's poking and prodding while he was enjoying a deep, interuterine slumber two months prior.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Another Birth Story...(Son #2)

On June 23 – Son #1’s bday – I posted his birth story. Granted it was long, but then again so was the labor. Here is Son #2’s birth story. It started similarly to Son #1’s – irregular contractions, long pre-labor. However, I was a bit more nervous this time because second labors are supposed to be quicker that the first.

The contractions started around midnight – still not 5 minutes apart for an hour or more, as directed by the doctor. My past experience taught me to take that with a grain of salt. The period between 4 and 6 a.m. were filled with painful contractions – not back labor this time, but still no picnic. Narcissist that I am, I managed a shower (if I can’t shower daily, I get grumpy).

I called the OB/GYN’s answering service around 6:30a.m. It’s a multi-doctor practice. The Cute Doctor, who was at the hospital, returned my call – think Tim McGraw with hair (maybe Tim does have hair, but I’ve never seen him without a hat so I’m skeptical). He tells me, “well, the contractions aren’t very close together and the fact that you can talk during the contractions tells me this isn’t the real thing yet.” Uh hello? Doesn’t past experience count for anything? And besides, as Dear Hubby can attest, there isn’t much that I can’t talk through. I push the issue. It may be my imagination, but he seemed just a tad irritated when he suggested that I stop by the office in an hour for a ‘labor check’ since the first doctor usually arrives at 7:30. Okay, I can wait. I hope.

Anyway, the doctor’s office is down the street from the hospital. I show up unannounced and explain that Dr. S. suggested I stop by for a ‘labor check.’ I was ushered into an exam room. Dear Hubby stayed in the waiting room. Not sure why, other than it was just a peek. Dr. M. (my regular OB-GYN) checks and says, “uh, did anyone drive you here?” Sure, Dear Hubby is in the waiting room…why? “You need to get to the hospital NOW.” I was, still talking through my irregular contractions mind you, 8 centimeters dilated. Dr. M. considered calling for an ambulance, but we figured Dear Hubby could drive the two blocks just as fast as the ambulance could make the 4-block round trip.

I arrive at the hospital, what 8 minutes later, and there was Dr. Cute to greet me. Nyaaahh nyaahhh, Cute Guy – you don’t know who you’re dealing with here. I settle into my hospital bed (none of this walking the halls nonsense like last time), and secretly hope that one of the other doctors arrive to deliver my baby. Dr. Cute’s day started early so shouldn’t he be going home by now? No such luck. Glad I managed to paint my toenails and shave my legs. Wish I would’ve paid more attention to my bikini area. Isn’t it stupid the things that go through one’s mind at a time like this?

Dr. Cute and I discuss the timing of my epidural. Should we break the water first or get the epi first? I agreed that we should wait until after he manually breaks my water (I remember that crochet hook thingy!). The reason being that my contractions were still highly irregular and that the epidural could potentially slow the contractions further. It’s settled then. He’ll break the water, go have a cup of coffee and come back to check on me.

Keep in mind that I was in labor for *hours* after having my water broken the first time. Even if second labors are quicker, then what’s faster than “hours”? Fewer hours? An hour? Try minutes. Poke with the crochet needle, gush, doc steps out of the room, doesn’t make it down the hall before we (me, Dear Hubby, nurses) call him back. I want my pain meds NOW!!! No time, says Dr. Not So Cute By This Point. An anesthetist raced in just in time to give me an injection that he says “should” (!) kick in just in time for Doc to make any – ahem – necessary repairs. (I don’t want to offend the sensibilities of The Guy who occasionally reads my blog.)

Although it was very short delivery, it was indeed ‘natural’ childbirth says Dr. Cute And Forgiven. Nice catch by the way, Doc, did you play baseball in college?

So Son #2, who turned 9 on June 17, was born without the cone head that adorned his big brother. Getting him here was a royal pain in the ass (pun intended), but well worth it. He is affectionate, funny, smart, sometimes exasperating, always beautiful and I’m a better person because of him.

Happy Birthday, Son #1! (A Birth Story)

You’re 11 today. I can hardly believe it. In part, because you’re still so small for your age and you do seem to act a bit younger than your peers. However, there’s no need to rush to grow up (being an adult has its privileges, but truthfully, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be!). Part of it is also because time flies.

You were a meticulously planned baby and it was a perfect textbook pregnancy (if there’s such a thing). Back when you were just an idea – no, a dream – I abstained from alcohol and over-the-counter meds (no prescription meds needed). I did everything ‘right’ during my pregnancy. You repaid me by making me sick, literally, for 4 months. Morning, noon and night sickness.

You took your own sweet time getting here, too. I started with pre-labor pains shortly after midnight on a Wednesday. My doctor said when my contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour, then I should report to the hospital. (Fortunately, I disregarded that advice, or else you would’ve been born at home. Eventually. More on that in a moment.)

Since the contractions weren’t frequent or painful (this was pre-labor, remember), I decided to drive myself to work. I bought my stopwatch with me and made a whole lot of people very nervous. However, I only had 6 weeks’ maternity leave and I wasn’t going to waste Day One at home awaiting your arrival. Throughout the day, the contractions were sporadic. Sometimes 20 minutes apart, then five minutes, then 17 minutes and so it went. All day long. Some of the contractions were painful but most weren’t very intense.

The work day was over and I went home and continued timing my contractions. Still irregular and still not time to go, per my doc’s earlier instructions. Finally around 11:30 p.m. Thursday evening, the contractions were occasionally 5 minutes apart, occasionally 10+ minutes. I called my obstetrician’s answering service and the doc called back promptly. Keep in mind this has been going on for 24 hours. Since the contractions weren’t so strong that it impeded my speaking, and since they still weren’t regularly 5 minutes apart for an hour, I should continue to wait it out at home. Another sleepless night.

Finally, out of boredom, I showered around 2:30 a.m. While I was in the shower, I had two very painful contractions. That was enough for me! Grab the bag and a couple of magazines, I told Dear Hubby, we’re going to the hospital and if they tell me it’s not time, we’ll sit in the parking lot and read until it is! We arrived at the hospital probably a little after 3:00 a.m. – we weren’t rushing. They do a quick check and said I was 5 centimeters dilated so they were admitting me. Obviously we had a way to go until you arrived, but it was much more comforting to wait at the hospital.

Here’s the kicker. For 20 minutes out of every hour, I’d lie in bed with a monitor strapped to my belly. This monitor measured your heart rate (A-OK) and my contractions (one every 15 minutes or so). After the 20-minute monitoring session, I was allowed to roam the halls. BAM! The contractions were 5, 6, 7 minutes apart, for as long as I was moving around. And on it went for another 8 hours of so. I was in “back labor” which meant that you were facing forward so that the hardest part of your head (the back) was passing along the base of my spine. Ouch.

The doctor recommended a pitocin drip which she hoped would cause my contractions to become more regular (it didn’t). She manually broke my water, using this little crochet needle thing, hoping that would speed things along (it didn’t). Finally, I received an epidural and it was time to start pushing. I was supposed to push ‘with the contraction.’ Nice idea in theory but they had me in a bed, which meant one push every 10 minutes or so. They also had this nurse lean across my stomach to help push from the outside. (If I were to run in to her today, I’m sure I wouldn’t recognize her face, but I’ll never forget her elbow!). We were coming down to the critical mark. They didn’t want you in the birth canal any longer and were starting to talk about a c-section, but we were able to squirt you out eventually. You were born just after 1:00 p.m. on Friday, weighing 7 lbs 1 oz, 19.75 inches long. It took you long enough to get here but you were worth the wait.

Of course I realize now that you’re just destined to do things at your own pace. You were late in talking, but you found your own way to communicate (I’d like to thank you for abandoning your own language and adopting ours instead, by the way). You were late in starting to read, but now you’re reading so far above your grade level, it’s appalling. You look like you’ll be a late bloomer since at 11, you measure 4’4” inches and weigh just over 50 pounds. You’ve had your share of challenges – besides your speech issues, there’s the ADHD and those pesky seizures, although next month it’ll be 5 years since your last tonic-clonic (aka grand mal) seizure. Knock wood.

And yet, you seem to be so utterly confident in who you are. You realize that you march to the beat of a different drummer, and while others may not understand it, that’s their problem. You are the way God made you, you’ve said. So true. And although you occasionally have me pulling my hair out, God made you most beautiful indeed.