February 10, 2014

Unto me, a Moo was born.

My Moo turned twelve today. Not the most momentous of birthdays, but her last as a PRE-teen. Next year it begins: I shall know the torture of life with a teenager.  But I'm getting way ahead of things.

I started this blog when I found out I was unexpectedly (and not entirely welcome-ly) pregnant with The Geel, but truthfully none of my babies were planned. And although they were all unexpected, none were unwanted. Moo was, of course, our first surprise....

The Sarge and I were not married and had been together for almost four years. I found out I was pregnant the week preceding Father's Day. I bought him his first Father's Day card and that's pretty much how I told him I was pregnant.

After the initial 13 weeks of "morning" sickness--which was "all the time" sickness for me--everything went well until a late ultrasound showed that Moo had an enlarged kidney. I don't want to make light of this because at the time we were pretty upset and very worried about it, but it is apparently not terribly uncommon and a lot of infants "grow into it" and that is what eventually happened with Moo.

Friday, February 8, 2002 rolls around and I am getting ready to make spaghetti and clams for dinner. One thing I hate is waste--especially when it comes to food.  I will eat leftovers that the dog would pass on, just so I don't have to throw them away. So of course, as soon as I crack open the clams, my water breaks.  We had a 45 minute drive to the hospital, so we didn't wait around.

I got there and they basically told me that it wasn't my water that broke and that I just peed my pants, but since by then I was having some contractions they would be nice enough to let me hang around and walk some laps around the ward in the hopes that my labor would progress and they wouldn't have to send me on a 45-minute drive home. It did.  We stayed.

My contractions became pretty regular but not earth-shattering and I did my best to rest through the night, as much as anyone can with the automatic blood pressure cuff reminding you that you are alive--yet not asleep.

In the morning my labor was going well and my epidural was going even better. I basically sat around doing crossword puzzles while my contractions got stronger and stronger. When it came time to push, the epidural was working a little too well, and I had no idea what I was doing.  The nurses were telling me to push harder, breathe, good job, whatever; I was just doing my best not to look like I had no idea what I was doing.

At some point someone told me to wait before pushing one last time--which I didn't hear in all the hubbub--so I kept bearing down and out came 9 pounds 2 ounces of Moo, breaking her collarbone (audibly!) and shredding my undercarriage on the way.  Two-plus hours of putting Humpty Dumpty back together and I was finally able to hold my little pink bundle of sugar and spice and everything nice.

She was a big baby, a solid little toddler and is now, at 12, nearly as tall as I am. She will always be my first baby and I will always remember the time we had together just Mommy and Moo until Slim came along. She has grown into an awesome girl and I could not be more proud of her. I can't and probably don't tell her enough. She is beautiful in so many ways and I hope she knows it and feels it about herself.

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