Happy birthday to Ben, happy birthday to Ben, happy birthday to Beeeeeeeeeennnnnnn! Happy birthday to Ben!
Today he is 2 years old. Dang! Time really does fly, as they say. I don't think I've ever recounted my boy's birth story. So to be fair and not perpetuate that old stereotype of the overlooked middle child I will recount it for you here.
My due date with Ben was December 22. Perfect, since I was teaching at the time and this date fell on the first Saturday of Christmas break. To be safe, I did have my long-term sub all lined up and on deck. I vividly remember seeing her in the school office on a Friday with two weeks of school to go and her saying something to the affect of, "Don't you go into labor on me these next couple of weeks!" We chuckled and I told her Jeran was late, so I wasn't too concerned. With that said, however, something possessed me that weekend (nesting instinct?) to compile sub plans for the remaining two weeks of school. I can recall berating myself for spending so much time on it when they wouldn't even be used. God must have been chuckling over that one.
On Monday morning I arose ready to face a new day and week of winter wonderful with my students. I distinctly remember awakening into semi-conscious at around 5:30 a.m. and thinking that it was a little wet "down there". Wetter than it should have been. I don't really know what the "normal" gauge is for something like that, but we probably don't really want to go there do we? Anyhoo, I shrugged it off and stepped into the shower. Upon stepping out of the shower I knew there was something distinctly different going on with my body than most days. I'll save you all any gory details, but suffice it to say that there was more than just shower water dampening the bathroom rug. Still, I could not bring myself to admit what was really going on here and proceeded to get dressed for my day. 3 outfits later I finally woke James up and told him I was pretty sure my water was breaking. This revelation was followed by, "I need to call Laura and tell her I won't be in. I should also email over my sub plans." James replied calmly, "Maybe you should call the doctor first." What sage advice.
After this everything is kind of a blur. I know we grabbed things (including Jeran) and got in the car (me perched atop a pile of towels and having to change clothes again before leaving), drove to the hospital (after making sure school knew I wouldn't be there), and traded JJ off to our wonderful friend Jeanne who drove down to get him and watched him until my mom could make it out. I was feeling good (though still leaky). No contractions, excited to meet my newest boy, still in shock that he was coming two weeks early. The remainder of my labor was equally uneventful. I got an epidural when the pain began (have I mentioned before how low my pain tolerance is? I wish there was a metaphor that could do it justice), pushed for about 45 minutes, and delivered our Benji at around 2:30 in the afternoon. I have often said that our children's births seem to have been a foreshadowing of their personalities. Laid back is how Ben entered the world and laid back he remains. And two years later it's unfathomable that we ever lived a life that did not contain him and his contagious, effervescent joy.
Today he is 2 years old. Dang! Time really does fly, as they say. I don't think I've ever recounted my boy's birth story. So to be fair and not perpetuate that old stereotype of the overlooked middle child I will recount it for you here.
My due date with Ben was December 22. Perfect, since I was teaching at the time and this date fell on the first Saturday of Christmas break. To be safe, I did have my long-term sub all lined up and on deck. I vividly remember seeing her in the school office on a Friday with two weeks of school to go and her saying something to the affect of, "Don't you go into labor on me these next couple of weeks!" We chuckled and I told her Jeran was late, so I wasn't too concerned. With that said, however, something possessed me that weekend (nesting instinct?) to compile sub plans for the remaining two weeks of school. I can recall berating myself for spending so much time on it when they wouldn't even be used. God must have been chuckling over that one.
On Monday morning I arose ready to face a new day and week of winter wonderful with my students. I distinctly remember awakening into semi-conscious at around 5:30 a.m. and thinking that it was a little wet "down there". Wetter than it should have been. I don't really know what the "normal" gauge is for something like that, but we probably don't really want to go there do we? Anyhoo, I shrugged it off and stepped into the shower. Upon stepping out of the shower I knew there was something distinctly different going on with my body than most days. I'll save you all any gory details, but suffice it to say that there was more than just shower water dampening the bathroom rug. Still, I could not bring myself to admit what was really going on here and proceeded to get dressed for my day. 3 outfits later I finally woke James up and told him I was pretty sure my water was breaking. This revelation was followed by, "I need to call Laura and tell her I won't be in. I should also email over my sub plans." James replied calmly, "Maybe you should call the doctor first." What sage advice.
After this everything is kind of a blur. I know we grabbed things (including Jeran) and got in the car (me perched atop a pile of towels and having to change clothes again before leaving), drove to the hospital (after making sure school knew I wouldn't be there), and traded JJ off to our wonderful friend Jeanne who drove down to get him and watched him until my mom could make it out. I was feeling good (though still leaky). No contractions, excited to meet my newest boy, still in shock that he was coming two weeks early. The remainder of my labor was equally uneventful. I got an epidural when the pain began (have I mentioned before how low my pain tolerance is? I wish there was a metaphor that could do it justice), pushed for about 45 minutes, and delivered our Benji at around 2:30 in the afternoon. I have often said that our children's births seem to have been a foreshadowing of their personalities. Laid back is how Ben entered the world and laid back he remains. And two years later it's unfathomable that we ever lived a life that did not contain him and his contagious, effervescent joy.
