I'm trying to remember the birthing experience (gulp!) with some levity. Call it a coping mechanism in the face of the possibility of future mini-Dax and Lauras, much to my parents' and in-laws' delight, I'm sure. Here's what I can recollect:
-Fearing the woman with the rubber glove.
-Thanking God for the epidural fairy.
-Blacking out for a few seconds every few minutes between contractions and yelling random things as I dreamt, like "I love microphones!"
-When my OB walked in and said "what are we having, a boy or girl?" less than 24 hours after I'd seen her for my last prenatal visit.
-When my OB said "Oh! Cruz Cruzada, what a good name," after asking what we will name our boy. (Not the first time this happened with her, yikes!)
-Barely coming to from the last contraction and listening to my OB and the nurses casually chat about New Moon and how Jacob is such a cutie. (It's true though. I'm totally Team Jacob.)
-Kolaches from Lone Star Bakery only a few minutes after my own little pig in a blanket arrived. Thanks, Mom.
-Free sandwiches in the refrigerator across my room.
-24-hours of House Hunters on HGTV on Thanksgiving day, which was celebrated in said room.
-And, of course the highlight was the arrival of my little alien. His very existence has trumped everything for the past five weeks, even celebrating Christmas (Sorry, Jesus!).
Everyone asks if I would do it again. The answer on Nov. 25, 2009 was H-E-double-hockey- sticks-NO. But today, on the five-week birthday of my precious baby boy, who may or may not be suffocating as he is so tightly wedged in the crook of Dax's arm, the answer is:
TO BE CONTINUED... :)
