Another year...

Seven years ago our lives changed. All of us changed. You, me, the neighbor across the street, the stranger across town. Seven years ago women in this country went into shock and, through the horror and heartbreak, brought forth joy. Seven years ago, I was one of those women. Seven years ago today, my youngest son was born

Little Pirate. 10 lbs 3 oz, 20-1/2 inches long, 15" head and chest. No, ladies, it was not a C-section. He was hiding. He was a surprise.

Seven years ago, we all suffered the horror and heartbreak. Many of us more personally than others. Thousands of pregnant women all over the nation went into shock-induced labor. I was one of them. Thankfully my labor was not far enough along for the hospital to keep me. Two days later, however, that was another story. I had just curled up with my almost-3-year-old little boy (Mr. Rebel) to watch a movie before he went to bed. He laid his head on my belly like he always did. He fidgeted a little more than normal, shifted his head, poked my belly...looking at me with his father's faery blue eyes, he said "Mommy, your tummy is hard! I can't get comfy!" Lol! I swear he did!

I figured it would start, I had been extremely uncomfortable all evening and the hardness of my belly was constant. We finished the movie, got him ready for bed and all tucked in. Then Daddy decided that Mommy needed sleep. That was fun...

So to speed everything up, I arrived at the hospital around midnight, could not progress in my labor, and spent the night holding my MIL's hand because her skin was cool and hubby's was not. Mom was in the waiting room with the boys curled up in blankets asleep on the floor. Hubby went to work with little-to-no sleep. My cousin visited me during her lunch break from the CCU/ICU floor to make sure I ate (they figured out quick who I was related to and then tattled on me for not eating!). They all felt so happy with themselves when half my food was gone before exhaustion claimed me.

Fastforward again, transition hit hard and heavy. Language got bad. Memory loss occured. Family thought I was hilarious. Photos of my mom and aunt are all I have to know the work they put in to help my body relax enough to rest. They rubbed my feet and calves for hours.

Then, after a neat discovery of why I wasn't progressing and a fabulous nurse that conned me into letting her try something - "Oh, honey, don't worry, you won't even notice" - yeah, right! (Honestly, she had to do what she did and if I ever had another baby she would be the nurse I would want in charge of my birthing room!)

9:00 PM. There he is. Not even seconds old and already irritating my doctor! Lol! Of course, not breathing for over 1 minute would have that effect on many people. "Breathe baby, breathe baby...for mommy..." Then the most gawd-awful scream, the indignation very apparent! Lol!

He was impressive. The nurses were shocked. DH was in awe. My response to my husband after hearing the stats of our newest joy? I am woman...hear me roar! To which I promptly pass out from exhaustion.

So, seven years ago, despite the tragedy and loss, new life came forth to make us smile and be thankful. So, Happy Birthday, Little Pirate. Happy Birthday to all the seven-year-olds.