Three years

Three years ago tonight I was still in labor with the Gavinator. I was 41 weeks, 5 days pregnant so it was decided we would induce labor. We showed up at labor and delivery at 6:00 with a brief stop made at the local grocery store on our way to the hospital for Lloyd to purchase several bags of candy. We parked in a "stork parking space" and the husband and I giggled that it would be the last time for awhile for us to take advantage of primo parking. Little did we know...

Looking back, I'm not quite sure of what I expected from the induction. While I was more than ready to hand Gavin his eviction notice- especially after enduring an entire summer of pregnancy in South Carolina- I wasn't too keen on the idea of being induced. I hadn't taken any childbirth classes but I knew induction increased the risk of cesarian delivery and I was scared to death of having a C-section. I wasn't scared that morning, though. I had ample time to prepare and I had already had two false alarm where the husband and I- along with my mother- rushed off to the labor and delivery floor only to be sent home. Plus, after spending two straight weeks with my mother- who was a labor and delivery nurse for over 20 years and, after seeing the latex gloves in our laundry room, insisted on examining my cervix (to which I gave a big fat HELL NO! If the woman had tried to get her hand anywhere near my cervix she would have hence forth been known as "lefty")- I wanted... no I NEEDED... this baby out.

We hot to the hospital around 6:00 am. The pitocin was started and the next thing I knew, I was in the most unbearable pain I had ever experienced. I remember curling up on my side and crying into the bright white hospital pillow and raising my head up long enough to see the mascara marks in the exact shape of my eye. Fortunately, they allowed me to have an epidural early on and while I still felt a great deal of pain, it allowed me enough relief that I quit contemplating throwing myself out the hospital window to end it all.

My labor was slow. My water broke soon after labor was induced but by 5:00 pm I had barely dilated. My doctor came in around 6:00 pm and placed a fetal monitor in Gavin's scalp along with something else to better monitor the strength of my contractions. He didn't say "c-section" but he alluded to the fact that I was well on my way to a surgical delivery. He told me to "keep an open mind" and we would reassess things in an hour. When he left the room I started bawling and I told the husband and my mother not to say anything. "Don't try to comfort me!!!" I yelled as they both started in on how a c-section wasn't the end of the world and the whole "as long as long as the baby is healthy blah blah blah" speil. I didn't know nothing about birthing no babies at the time but I know NOW that every decision I made leading up to the induction of Gavin screamed planned cesarian.

Next thing I remember is that I started puking left and right. The first time I couldn't even manage to ask for a basin. My mom handed me the trash can and I yacked the nothing I had in my stomach into the trash can. The husband had to leave the room because seeing as he had just downed an entire meal from Chick-Fil-A (I, on the other hand was starving and hadn't eaten anything in 24 hours), he was getting ready to lose his dinner from watching me yack... and his breakfast, lunch, and all the sugary goodness he had consumed while watching me writhe in pain. "We're" pregnant my ass.

On the brightside, with puking came progress. With every bout of emesis, I dilated. It was amazing. It was like I was literally puking Gavin out. I puked, I dilated to six, I puked again, I was 7, I puked again and again, I was 8, 9, and finally, I was 10! We had been talking on the phone to anxious family member and friends throughout the labor and I remember talking to my sister as the room was being prepared for me to push and telling her "I gotta go, it's time for me to push!".

They darkened the lights and turned off the tv and I grabbed my tired, numb legs and when the contraction came, I gave it all I had- which wasn't much considering I hadn't eaten in a day and a half (note to pregnant women: don't eat yogurt for dinner the night before you are going to be induced. Nerves schmerves. Eat a steak, potato, mac and cheese, and wash it down with a milkshake. You can thank me later). I started pushing around 9:00 pm and I remember gasping for breaths in between each contraction and rolling my head back onto the pillow and mumbling "so hungry, I'm just so hungry. If I could have something to eat, I could push". My mom promised me she would go get me a Hardee's monster burger after Gavin was born. I grabbed me legs tighter and I pushed that much harder. This one is for you, monster burger!!!

I was supposed to push for three counts of ten but usually by 7 or 8 I lost focus and control and needed to stop for a breath. I apologized profusely and asked over and over agin if my pushes were "effective". Yes, they told me. Yes!!! My mom told me she could see his head and he has hair! He has hair!! I promptly yelled at my mom to shut the eff up because I wanted to know that he has hair when I see that he has hair! Finally, at 9:38 I pushed and my baby boy was here. The doctor held him up for me to see and I was overcome with emotion. "He's beautiful! He's absolutely beautiful!" I cried.

And he was beautiful. I had watched hours upon hours of A Baby Story and Maternity Ward; I had seen my share of purply-red, vernix covered aliens born in the past 9 months and I had prepared myself for something to look more Sci-Fi channel than Hallmark channel but he was gorgeous. I literally was in awe of how beautiul my child was. His mouth was wide open in an uspide down "u" shape and he was screaming at the top of his lungs and while for one second I did think to myself "dude will NOT shut up", I was truly overwhelmed with love.

I processed all of this in a nano-second as the doctor held him up and while I was absorbed in the wonder that is my amazing Gavin, he proceeded to take a giant leak on me. The doctor didn't see it happening but I was being sprayed with newborn urine. I tried to move out of the way but my epidural-numbed body wouldn't budge. I had to lie there and take the onslought of piss.

Gavin's first picture (yes, I know my OB is hot)


Thus began my relationship with my son. I would be forever enamored with my lovely boy and he would just piss all over me.

(OMG... can I just say that I paused from typing to look at the clock just now and it is 9:38 pm!?! Happy birthday my sweet, sweet boy)

We celebrated Gavin's third birthday this weekend and it was AWESOME!!! My neighbor rented a big, blow-up slide thingy-ma-jig as a birthday gift to Gavin and it is honestly up in the air as to who had more fun: the kids or the adults. One thing is for sure, the adults were the only ones who got hurt. The party started at three and wasn't over until 8:00. I only let the invitees inside the house to partake in all the food and festivities but all the neighborhood kids were welcome to come take a turn on the slide. Not that I had much choice in the matter. The rugrats were circling our house and the slide like sharks around a whale carcass. Gavin absolutely loved the slide and he had a blast during the entire bash.







Today was also Gavin's first day of preschool. I wasn't quite sure how it would go or whether or not I would feel all emotional about it but it actually went off without a hitch. I do feel emotional in the sense that "OH MY GOD MY BABY BOY IS THREE AND WHERE DID THE TIME GO!!!!????!!!!" but as far as starting preschool, I'm just "eh". He's three. It's time. The husband is slowly but surely going crazy from spending day in and day out with Gavin and Gavin is in desperate need of some structured, educational play outside of the house in a social environment. Never mind the fact his prechool is church-based and the good Lord knows that the Gavinator could use some Holy Spirit up in here. Dude can be wicked evil.

It is time for preschool. For all of us.

We have been preparing Gavin for school for the past few weeks by emphasizing the fact he will need to SHARE at preschool. Like any other demon-possessed preschooler, sharing is not his forte. In fact, there mere glance at a toy that he may want to play with one of these days and/or hasn't played with in a year can send the boy into a fit of fury. You ask Gavin about school and he will tell you "Yeah, alright. Preschool. Share toys. Share at preschool." I have no doubt that he was only talking the talk and would be unable to walk the walk but whatevah. Let his teacher deal with that and the pieces can fall where they may. Preschool is in a church. Perhaps an event of Biblical proportions would occur and the Gavinator would be blessed with the ability to not beat the crap out of an unsuspecting two year old for breathing in the direction of a toy. Any toy.

We dropped Gavin off at 9:00 this morning with little fanfare. I tried to kiss him bye but he would have nothing to do with it. We left and he didn't miss a beat.. He was curled up on the floor playing with a firetruck and did not want to be disturbed. The husband had a little skip in his step on the way out to the car and once we got home I thought we would embrace the Gavin-free house but the husband just read the paper and I cleaned the house and nursed Grace until it was time to pick the boy up.

We pulled up to the preschool at noon and while both the husband and I feared that Gavin would be chained to the church sign with a note pinned to him that said they don't allow those who carry the mark of the devil in their prechool, the sign was Gavin-free. I went in to get him and he told me "no leave" and "no home" and the teacher said he did "great". I didn't want to hear the truth if that wasn't it so I grabbed the boy and his two crafts and ran.

I'm officially a mom to a preschooler.