Thursday, August 30, 2007

Happy Birthday, Punkin' Pie!

Two years ago, on August 30th, my baby girl was born and it was love at first sight. In honor of your birthday, I'm going to tell your birth story.

First of all, you were a miserable pregnancy! (How's that for a warm and fuzzy birth story?!) I was so sick in my first trimester that I literally had to quit my job. I could not function. I could not eat. I would weakly sip the broth from Campbell's chicken noodle soup -- but not the noodles! NO! Nothing so substantial for me, thank you very much! Crackers did no good. I tried all the home remedies -- ginger in every form available, peppermint, motion sickness wristbands. Finally, the poor doctor took pity on me and prescribed some phenergen. Well, that did help with the nausea -- because I was UNCONSCIOUS! You can't be unconscious and be nauseated at the same time. But you can't be unconscious and take care of a 2 year old at the same time, either. So, the doctor took pity on me once again and prescribed me the wonder drug Zofran. It's what they give chemo patients and it costs about a bajillion dollars. I tried to get a month's worth filled and was told it would be over a thousand dollars. Um. No. So, I had to start rationing my Zofran. I totally know how junkies feel! And I began to have really weird cravings. Slim Jims. Yes, slim jims. And Blimpie sandwiches. And banana pepper slices. Mmmmmm.

Then came the second trimester and the earth returned to it's non-nausea inducing regular orbit. But in the place of nausea came wake-you-up-in-the- middle-of-the-night stomach -stabbing heartburn. And restless legs. Have any of you suffered from restless legs? It sucks. Just as you're about to get to sleep, you get this URGE to move your legs. And you just HAVE to move them. It's a compulsion. You can't help it. The only thing that helped were long hot baths, so there was many a night I'd rise from the bed about 11:30 to go soak in the tub.

And I got HUGE! I mean, huge! See:

And finally, the big day arrived. We had scheduled a c-section because Bubba was born that way. We arrived at the hospital bright and early. We turned on the news, watching the very early Hurricane Katrina coverage. My mom joked that we should name you Katrina (in her defense this was BEFORE the New Orleans tragedy). Finally, they came to get me. I had an extremely handsome anesthesiologist and was mortified that he had to see my extremely large rear end as he administered the epidural. He asked me if there was anything special I wanted to happen during the delivery. I told them that I just wanted to remember it, to be able to savor it. Bubba's birth was a little traumatic and scary and I didn't get to fully appreciate every moment like I wanted. I wanted to remember your birth

And it went great. "You'll feel a little tugging," they said. And there you were! All 9 lbs 1 oz of you. Screaming. Looking like a strange mixture of your Uncle Todd and your great uncle Russell (weird, I know, but genetics at work I guess. She does not STILL look like those men, fortunately). And they took you away to clean you up.

And then they brought you back to me. So sweet. And such a good nurser! You've never seen your Papa Bill (my dad) move so fast as when he realized I was about to start nursing you! Of course we had to stay five LOOONGGG days in the hospital with nothing to watch on television but the VERY depressing post-Katrina coverage from New Orleans. I'll be honest, I felt a little guilty sitting there watching women begging for formula, water, anything for their babies. Mr. Daddy decided to get some fresh air and was going to take a drive but he noticed cars lining up at gas stations with regular unleaded going for $3.55 a gallon. It was a very short drive.

And finally, they let us go home. Here you are in your going home outfit that was almost too small for your 9 lb self!

And now we're two years later. It hasn't always been an easy road, but the easy roads are rarely the ones you remember anyway. In honor of your birthday, I'm going to list 2 things that I love about you. Every year I'll increase the number to match your age.

1. I love your sense of humor. It is amazing to me that at only 2 years old you already have a keen sense of what is funny and will make people laugh.

2. I love your sweet smile. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.

Happy Birthday, Punkin! I love you!


Laurel said...

What a cutie pie! Happy Birthday Punkin'! She will love this post someday!

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Lauren said...

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!! I have to tell you this one brought a tear to my eye...what a sweet post.

Please give her three extra squeezes from us today and tell her that the big yellow doggie misses her :)

Lulu said...

Oh, that is just too sweet! What a good momma you are!

When I was pregnant with Gus, my first trimester was so similar to yours. If I recall correctly (it was 18 years ago!), I set up camp in the bathtub and popped phenergan like a farkin' junkie. This is quite possibly why I only have one child.

Please give Punkin many Happy Birthday squeezes today!

Leslie said...

Happy Birthday, Punkin'!! With lots of love from Uncle Bill, Aunt Leslie, and your cousins Birdy and Little Brother!

Anonymous said...

Gee, I hope Uncle Todd doesn't see this blog.

Uncle Todd

Lauren said...

ps. um, do you speak spanish????

Madame Queen said...

Okay, in response to the last comment I only meant that it's a good thing that a 2 year old doesn't still look like two grown men. That's all! No offense intended about the looks of either men!

sophie said...

So, so sweet. And the pictures are wonderful. Happy birthday to Punkin -- and mom, too. My siblings and I try to call my mom on our birthdays at the time we were born. "Thanks, Mama! Couldn't have done it without you!"

(yes, we do call her Mama. That's the southern in us) :-)

M&Co. said...

Oh how sweet!