So, I’m working on my grandson post and suddenly I remember this post from my son’s 16th birthday. And since he’s about to turn 20, well, here we are. Let’s throw it back in a a very mommy throwback way!
This is a story of a boy being born. This story has changed every year. As the boy has gotten older, the mommy has embellished the story to make the boy smile. This year is no different. This year’s story began sixteen years ago, as opposed to fifteen years ago, as it began last year:
Sixteen years ago today, I woke up in pain at 5:30 in the morning. The sun was not out and I should not have had to be awake, especially given that I was 986-thousand days pregnant. But I was. And my water had broken. Or I’d wet myself. I was hoping I’d just wet myself so I could go back to bed and sleep until a respectable hour. Alas, labor had begun. You would soon be here.
While I raced around getting ready to go to the hospital to have you, I kept having to pass this massively huge sci-fi spider. And that’s when your horrible fear of spiders began.
“I don’t have a horrible fear of spiders.”
Whatever. That’s not the point.
So we finally got to the hospital. Not rain nor sleet nor hail nor snow nor hurricane nor earthquake could keep me from meeting you.
Hush, I’m telling a story here.
There was that one bridge collapse on the way, and we could only slow the car to a crawl for your grandmother to jump in. We saved her life, really. And when we got there, first I had to deliver a baby for someone else, because, well, I couldn’t just pass her up in her time of need, and–
“Mom? Have you forgotten the real story?”
This IS the real story. I just never shared it with you. Didn’t want you to think I was showing off or anything.
Were you there? No, not yet. So you don’t know. Fine, I’ll stick to only what happened while trying to give you life.
So, like, I was in horrible pain because you were HURTING ME!
I was in labor and I didn’t whimper not once. I continued visiting poor sick children, wiping the foreheads of other women in labor, and instructing doctors on the proper bypass heart surgery thingy thing stuff…uh…
Hours and hours later – remember, I’m in tremendous pain all this time – it was finally time to give birth to you, to bring you into this world, to meet you and hug you and love you and name you George.
Doctors filed in with students left and right. “This here is our best patient ever. She is amazing. She is about to give birth to a beautiful child. Ahem, I mean, awesomely totally future scene kid, err, man, err… whatever. Did I mention how amazing she is?”
At one point, they totally lost your heartbeat. “Okay, we have to get this baby out!” they shouted at each other, and one by one, they circled me, waiting for my instructions.
And I said, “Let’s do this, people. This is NOT a drill.” I put on my helmet and shoulder pads and readied myself. “Blue 22! HUT!”
And you were born.
Oh how you wailed. That lip of yours, that one right there…it looked like this. (I poked my bottom lip out as far as possible.) And I knew right then, that is a beautiful full lip, destined to be pierced. I just knew it, Brian. And look at you now, all lip-pierced and whatnot.
“You sure didn’t expect me, did you?”
I didn’t know who to expect.
“I’m not like Scott at all.”
You are YOU, and I love YOU as you. I don’t care that you aren’t like Scott, no more than I care that Scott isn’t like you. All I care about is that you are YOU. And that you’re Mommy’s good little boy, of course.
“Yeah, stop it. Go back to your fantasy story.”
If this were a fantasy story, I’d have slept through the whole of labor, silly boy.
This IS a true story.*
*This is not a true story. Nor did this whole conversation take place. I have to say that because the boy, who probably never reads my blog at all except for THIS ONE TIME!!! will come here and call my a liar. In public. In front of all of you. I can’t be having all that drama. So there.