Birthday EVE!

On my Birthday I got together with my girlfriends.  It. was. hilarious.

After lots of laughs and plenty of food and wine, the last of the gals were leaving, and my son was brought up.  Well, again because we obviously talked about kids throughout the night.  One of my friends offered my favorite quote of the, well... like forever.  She said, "Joseph is seriously the best, I want my son to grow up and be just like him!"

I mean pause for cup runneth over...

So on the eve of his Birthday - and day of Birth for me... because yes, that shit was 15 hours of painful hell - I thought I would talk about him.  My baby, and his arrival here.

From the beginning, he came out kicking, well trying.  My water broke at 2:37 a.m. ruining my mattress for forever.

Oh, I forgot to mention - this is real talk per usual... just in case something like "water breaking" makes you squeamish.

We get to the hospital and I swear after the water was gone, it was like being able to count his toes, alien style.  He calmed down though, not too long after settling in the hospital bed... but in the wrong direction.  My humungous baby was what they call sunny-side-up.  Most babies come out face down, but this guy decided he wanted to be facing up so everyone could see him on exit.  Unfortunately for me, that meant his big ol head was pressing directly against the counter force of my tailbone, otherwise known as back-labor.  Fuck-my-life. So you know in those movies where the woman is screaming "ohhhhmmyyyyyyygaaaawdddddd" right before the baby is delivered?  Yea, that was my first stage of labor. Out of three.

Me, not wanting to even enter the martyrdom world of going "natural", I immediately requested the drugs.


Side note, I think whatever you decide to do is right for you, that's great... but for real, natural childbirth is crazy talk... I mean again, good for you, but hell to the no!

Turns out before normal business hours the anesthesiologists were few and far between.  Like you can plan the water breakage between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m..  Sigh.  My guy happened to be in an "emergency" so they gave me Stadol.  Enter euphoria, relief, and almost dying attempt number one.  My guy again was delayed, so I got a second dose.  Apparently, I was so relaxed my body decided the effort to breath was not quite worth it, so I stopped.  You're welcome, nurses. Also, eye rolls.  I was fine, sleeping peacefully (finally) who knew I could have just drifted off into my death?!

So Dr. Man of the Hour with the epidural finally arrives, and as he is inserting the 5-mile long needle into my back I tell him exactly how much I love him, in typical Tracy style.  Everyone laughs, I roll over having a little comfort from the level 24 out of 10 pain, also with help because you basically cannot move, and here comes dying attempt number two.  Like really - so dramatic, I am just trying to sleep here!  Apparently, this time I decided to stop breathing again, coupled with my not-known-at-the-time super low blood pressure, the muscle relaxers and laying on my sciatic nerve dipped me down into comatose levels setting off all kinds of alarms and panic.


So here we are like noun hours into this gig and all my slowing, easing of pain, attempting to die, slows my progression to a halt.  Cool deal, there is also a drug for that!  Back on track.  The next few hours are legit the worst pain of my life.  They say "oh, in time you forget" um no, actually, I will never forget my body basically ripping in half. Yes, like 700 stitches later in half.  (Don't worry non-moms, it goes back, better than ever... stitches equals awful pain but also back to normal V thang! Sorry not sorry for TMI, I warned you!)

So pain agony, pushing, telling the doctor that if he puts a sharp object near me I will cut him out myself, begging, pleading, cursing, basically the horror story... out comes, finally, my beautiful nine and a half pound 23 inch long baby boy at 5:37 p.m..  Into the arms of his mama nine days into her twenty-second year of life.  I was a baby having a baby.

Rock. My. World.

It is a moment you never forget, this sweet babe, just pure and perfect and also the size of a toddler, and the most miraculous thing that I have ever done set in my arms, saving me, changing my life forever.

There is not enough words or big enough words in the English language to capture the feeling, but I will show you.


It was like we just got each other, and the love was so big that everything else fell away.  It was him and me.

Fast forward to this night, seventeen years later, please ignore my loud sobs, my sweet giant baby young man is still the very best thing I have ever done.  He is humble, kind, smart, funny, handsome and genuine.  He has a mind that allows him to progress through spans of time ahead of himself.  He is nurturing in ways that defy his father leaving him.

He is everything I wish I could be better at in life.  Patient, courageous, philanthropic, purposeful, witty, I mean I could go on for days.  He just has a heart of gold.

I am biased sure, but to circle back around to the ultimate compliment, I am raising a son that is a standard other moms want their boys to be like.  Swoon.

He is amazing.

He will also want to kill me if I post a ton of cheesy pics of him, so I will leave you with one more.  The heart of my life, my greatest love story.


Happy Birthday my sweetest Joseph.  You make me proud beyond measure and I am eternally grateful to have been chosen to be your mama.  I love you buggy!