THE DAYS ARE LONG

The days are long, but the years are flying by too quickly. Each year rages on faster than the one before. Where are they going? Why are they in such a hurry? Why can't things just SLOW DOWN?

Tomorrow....actually, in about 13 hours, my baby will be 2 years old. I don't know where the time has gone. When my oldest turned 2, it took longer. Perhaps because I had a 6 month old, as well. I was just trying to survive. When my 2nd turned 2, I was 5 months preggers with number 3. I was teaching. It went by fast, but seeing as how I always had a baby in the house...or one on the way...well, it went by a bit more slowly. When number 3 turned 2, I was 7 months preggers with number 4. I was still teaching, but I was in a new school. Being totally distracted by life, it seemed that things were just trucking along at a brisk, but totally tolerable pace. Finally number 2 is turning 2. I have been blessed with the ability to stay home since he was born. I have put a second child into school. I have no papers to grade, no plans to write, no tutorials to conduct. I can sleep late (if 7:00 is late) and go to bed late. I don't have to iron my day-to-day clothes. I can go to the store in the morning or go to the park. I have a life of relative leisure. Yet my son, who seems to have been born just yesterday, is turning 2. My heart aches for my baby, who is no more.

His story is quite uneventful, compared to the other 3. He was planned. In fact, when I went in for a checkup before he was conceived, I told the doctor, "I'll be back in September or October when #4 is on the way." The nurse (who was new) laughed like I was a senseless child. But my doctor, knowing how blessed I am with eager eggs, said, "If she says she'll be pregnant in the fall, she will be."

I announced my pregnancy on September 24th.

The only problem I had, in fact, the only problem I EVER had with all 4, was a touch of high blood pressure due to a parent from hell. I know...I shouldn't say that. If you knew this parent, you would realize the spawn of the devil she is.

However, I shan't dwell on the evil memories of my past life. She is no more than a mosquito in a spider web. I shall think of her no more.

ANYWAY, everything percolated along as it should. I was due on June 8. We decided to induce on June 7. My hubby was off for a few days and wanted to maximize on his bonding time. I love my man.

I went in the night before because I had to be prepped. It seems that I was not dilated a bit nor was I thinned out. (Those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about can look this up or ask your wife. :-) ) I was given a sleeping pill so that I might be fully rested for a delivery. Truly, it takes a lot out of you. LOL!!! Besides the obvious.

I woke the next morning at about 7:30 to be induced. At 9:30, my water was broken. At 9:40, I asked for drugs. At 10:15, I was ready to rock and roll. The only thing missing from this wonderful picture was the doctor. He was either on a coffee break, or taking a much needed pit stop. Either way, he was not ready. I sat and waited for about 30 minutes. Thank goodness I had an epidural. Otherwise, somebody else would have had to assume the catching position.

I sat, not feeling a thing, talking to my mother and my husband, while the nurses made sure that things were ready for the doc as soon as he graced us with his presence.

10:45 the good doctor comes in. Now, don't laugh. (Those of you with clean minds will have no clue what is so funny. Those of you who are the demented souls I love will have a good chuckle over this....) The name of my doctor: Dr. Dickey. I do not tell a lie.

Anyway, at 10:45 he comes in, sits on his stool, wheels up, says, "give me a push." One push and no grunts later I ask, "Is that what I'm paying you for?" My baby had been born.

My nurses, being totally fabulous, heeded my request to clean him off first. Yes, I know. I am a terrible mom. I wanted a clean baby. I had already gone through times when a wriggling, goopy child was placed on me. I wanted a clean child. He was my last...I wanted him clean. It took all of 5 minutes for a quick wipe down and I was handed my beautiful, perfect son.

The pediatrician did not need a name tag to ID my child. He looks just like his brothers. He nursed like a champ. He slept well from the get-go.

He was, and is to this day, every body's sweetheart. When I pick him up from the church nursery, the workers have to look for him. It seems that he is so loved that people just take him from room to room to play.

He, like my other sons, is the light of my life. I waited for 34 years for this precious life to become a part of me. I feel so blessed to have him. HE completes our family.

My precious son. I pray that God blesses you even more than He has blessed us. I pray good health over you. I pray that you continue to find favor with people you come into contact with. I pray that your footsteps are guided and that you hear the calling that is on your life.

You are my precious son. I love you! Happy Birthday, Monkey.