You may have noticed that I added Candy Crush back to my phone… really, that’s not all that has kept me off the blog over the past few months. We’ve completed another basketball season and another debate season, and I’ve been as busy as a one armed paper hanger. (I love to sprinkle little Meme-isms into my writing!)
An important day is coming to the Ballou house. Tomorrow marks 14 years since the Boy Child made his appearance two days late. You might guess that I never let him forget that. Truly, his late arrival fit perfectly with what was happening in our lives at that time. I just had to overcome a little jealousy. Four of us from college expected the blessed event within the last two weeks of March. Each of those babies made their appearance, and I became more convinced that I would be the first person in history to be pregnant forever. As I neared the end of that pregnancy, my Nanny was living her final days of Alzheimer’s. She died in a nursing home nearby, and the whole family gathered for her funeral… on my due date… with my husband officiating the funeral. Needless to say, once the family confirmed the date, I started praying this baby would stay in a little bit longer.
We made it through Nanny’s funeral and relatives began to disperse. My parents returned to Longview knowing they would probably be back soon. My sister and her family, including my six week old niece, stayed over until Sunday. While we were at church, she fixed lunch, and they packed to return home. At church that day, the pitying looks I received convinced me not to return until my pregnant status had changed. I tried not to look miserable, but I really don’t do pregnancy well. Of course, who does at 40+ weeks?
After lunch I realized I was very uncomfortable, but again, 40+ weeks and all that. No one expects anything but discomfort. Finally we realized these pains could be contractions. I had a vague idea of what they felt like from Taylor. Remember I’m the number one epidural promoter in all of blogdom so I wasn’t sure. We decided to go ahead and go to the hospital and rejoiced that they admitted me! Several hours later, after much pain, the doctor decided to break my water. Then, she assured me, I could have my epidural. Ladies and gentlemen, the order of those two events is key to the birthing process. I had no idea how much that water protected me from the worst of the contractions. I’m sure thirty seconds passed from the rupturing to the anesthetizing, but it felt like 3 hours. I think I appreciated that epidural more. Never take for granted a good anesthesiologist! I also learned at this time that the lady next door was progressing at a similar rate and that there was only one private room left. Suddenly we were racing in a process that neither of us could really control. With the epidural, I felt like Superwoman, so the nurse cranked up the pitocin. A few hours later, I began pushing. The only problem with that came from the medicine they had given me several hours earlier to “take the edge off” the pain until I could get the epidural. That drug is worthless for pain, but evidently it is great for insomnia. I could not stay awake. My most vivid memory of the boy child’s actual exodus from my body is WB waking me up to push then letting me take 30 second naps between pushes. I spent about an hour and a half in cycles of 10 seconds of pushing and 30 seconds of sleeping, but finally his chalky sweet 8 pound 14 ounce body made an appearance! And I won the private room!
I will attempt to describe the joy this boy has brought to my heart. My sister and I had no brothers and only one boy cousin on either side of the family, so boys were a fairly foreign species. I’m not sure if more joy comes from seeing his imagination that is so different from mine (I have a good Dr. Pepper story coming soon in a blog.) or from the things that come out of his mouth that are hilarious (i.e. WB is preparing a neti pot at the kitchen sink while talking to me about his recent run through the woods. Boy Child politely says, “Dad, can you use that in the bathroom? It’s kind of gross.” Um, yes, it goes without saying that I wasn’t planning on cleaning out my nasal passages all over the kitchen sink.) He can be cuddly… and not. He can be sweet… and not. He looks just like his daddy. He often smells like a puppy. He is my Boy Child and one of my top two favorite kids in the universe!