I was in labor.
At this point, I was at the 14 hour mark with almost no end in sight.
The night before at around 10:15, I had told Mr. Smith that I thought this was it. He was sitting on the edge of our bed with his back to me.
He has spent the entire day dragging his mother (who was so freaked out at the prospect of me and a new grandchild stealing her much-needed constant attention from her eldest son that she was staging an epic shoulder injury) from one doctor to another.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake.
His shoulders slumped and his head drooped forward.
He felt utterly exhausted and defeated.
"Does it have to be right now? Seriously? Tonight?"
I was good and scared.
We had already been to the hospital one time for a false alarm and did not want to drag him out on a damp night after everything else he had been asked to do all day.
The poor man just wanted to go to bed.
I decided to take a warm bath and try to get the contractions to stop.
Off to the hospital we went. In the rain. I was REALLY uncomfortable. Every bump in the road felt like we were off-roading.
I was not dilated at all, but they had me walk the halls for a few hours to see if anything more would happen. It did.
By five the next morning, Mr. Smith had taken a nap in the car while I
navigated the halls of maternity ward.
Finally the nurse put us in an absolutely palatial room with gorgeous views of Laguna Beach and even Catalina Island.
At 8:35, this guy finally cooperated and was born.
My sweet boy.
You are my favorite little boy in the world.
The past five years have been the most challenging of my life, but I would not trade a
single second with you.
Happy Birthday my darling boy!