You’re going to have to bear with me today. It’s my baby’s first birthday. His very first! He’s never had a birthday before…well, minus the day he was actually birthed but I’m pretty sure that sucks for everyone involved and there’s no cake OR champaign – why? Because Leo B. was unexpected.

Taken this morning with the phone so a little dark and grainy but 1 year old!

From day 1 he was completely and totally unexpected.

Not a “surprise” because I’m not 16 and I know how this shit works. But…unexpected. Because the internet told me that if you have bad reactions to birth control pills then it’s difficult to get pregnant for like 5 months…

the internet is full of crap.

Completely unexpected pink lines on the test I took to make sure I wasn’t pregnant when I went into visit the OB the following week to try out some new non-evil bc options. Completely unexpected feelings of sadness when the internet told me that Target tests are known for false positives. Thankfully, say it with me now, the internet is full of crap.

Unexpected morning sickness.

Unexpected due date for repeat c-section falling on the same day as older boy’s birthday!

Unexpected super low blood pressure that prompted the nurse to ask, ‘How are you even alive?’

Unexpected hernias.

Unexpected failed first diabetes test that prompted the doctor to say, ‘This is very strange.’ (on account of me being so petite and all, even though I had gained like 45 pounds at that point)

Then, three days before scheduled c-section and the morning of Fox’s birthday party…unexpected labor.

WTF.

I was so so pissed. and yes, this is the beginning of a birth story. Deal with it.

Right. Party. Labor. But I remembered my OB telling me that if I went into labor (which, she said, you totally won’t because your older one was late and most pregnancies are the same and we have you scheduled at 39 weeks anyway so it would be like he was coming early and that won’t happen but just in case….) – that I was to go to the hospital immediately otherwise I would not have my drugs or my uterus would rupture or an alien would pop out of my belly. People, I take my drugs and my uterus and aliens really seriously. No chances.

Into the car, drive to the city. Get into hospital, explain the birthday situation, get a bunch of IVs and blown out veins and…it stops. ALL RIGHT UNIVERSE! Of course, I’m a little annoyed with the whole pain/labor/needle thing but whatever, it got me out of setting up a birthday party. So back to our town, to the park where I get to whisper all excited like to E that I’m in labor! Labor!

When it’s not hurting it sounds all great and awesome. Plus, I really did think that it wouldn’t start up again and I would go in on Wednesday as planned (this was Sunday). I know, I’m an idiot.

Monday.

Labor. pisssseeed. Also, freaking out for some reason over having to go to the store and get stuff. Immediately. Lie about being in pain/labor and go shopping.

Finally, Danny comes home and I’m all, “we have to go to the hospital.” and because he’s a man he takes his sweet ass time until I’m like, ‘the hospital NOW.’

Riding in a car for 25 minutes in labor sucks.

Hospital.

Hot resident.

Hot anesthesiologist who gives me drugs.

Hot husband who is counting the strength of the contrations…grrrrr. WHY DO MEN DO THIS??? Guys, for the love of JEEBUS, do not count contraction strength. I get that the numbers going up is neato. I get that you are amazed at how high they go. It’s a fun game to see if the next uberpainful for me contraction will top the last and maybe in your head you win some bet but SHUT UP.

Weird but friendly troll doctor who I ask if he’s ever done a c-section before and he is nice about me basically suggesting that he might suck at his profession. Turns out he’s done, like, thousands or something.

Then comes Leo and he is just…amazing. He looks nothing like his brother. Which is unexpected.

There were little complications. Some fluid on the lungs that required x-rays and tubes. I just watched him and even then he was smiling through his eyes.

And I was so so happy to meet him. On his birth day, two days early. Technically a week and a day early.

Now, a year later I can’t imagine what life would be like with out my little gigglebox who lives on tickles and sunshine and avocados. He’s helped me embrace chaos which is completely and totally…

unexpected.

Advertisements