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Once upon a time I was 28 years old and pregnant with my third son.
We had recently sold our home and had found another home. The problem was our new home would not be ready until a month after we had to be out of our current house.
I had spent days and days packing up the house and getting ready to put everything into storage for a month.
All while waiting for the birth of our next arrival due July 20th. Right smack in the middle of it all.
It was a sweltering July 4th. I woke up that morning and felt terrible.
I couldn't place my finger on it. Slight nausea - achy - so incredibly tired. Just total fatigue.
But we had been busy.
Life had been extremely stressful.
I laid around most of the day, incessantly complaining to my husband that we had to go to his mother's birthday celebration at my brother in-law's home.
I dozed in and out of sleep for hours. Although I could not tell you specifically what felt poor - I knew it was a rotten day.
I hadn't eaten anything. I was in the final weeks of my pregnancy and the heat had gotten the best of me that day and I had chosen to stick with ice water and not very much else.
I showered and got Son #1 and Son #2 ready to go to the family celebration. They were ages 4 and 2. They were in their matching Fourth of July outfits ready for fireworks.
We piled into the van and headed across town.
After arriving, I chatted with my sister in law from Oklahoma. I told her how I had not been feeling well at all that day. She encouraged me to eat something that I would feel better.
In the dining room, there was a large party sub from Subway. I sliced some off and added all of the fixings to it.
Mayo.
Pickles.
Lettuce.
Olives.
Even the hot peppers.
I sat with her while I ate.
Shortly after I swallowed my last bite - I got up to go to the bathroom.
Something felt odd.
Could it be?
It couldn't be...
I wasn't due for another 15 days.
I called to my husband.
Yup.
My water had broken.
Funny enough - this had never happened to me before.
I called my OB/GYN and they told us to head to the hospital in a bit.
I then called my mother and father.
They would be watching Son #1 and Son #2 while we worked on Son #3.
I was incredibly but unexplainably calm.
No contractions at all.
I went home and packed my bag.
Took the boys to my parents.
Then we finally headed to the hospital.
My water had broken somewhere around 4 p.m.
We arrived at the hospital sometime after 8 p.m.
I was having contractions that I could not feel. (Yup. Those are the best kind.)
The hospital was silent.
I think I was the only laboring mother in the maternity ward.
My OB/GYN arrived.
She looked amazingly different than I had ever seen her.
She was wearing her glasses instead of contacts.
Her hair pulled back in a pony tail rather than coiffed.
She was wearing her Notre Dame college sweats.
No white coat.
No scrubs.
She came and checked me and soon we would augment with some pitocin.
The epidural was done somewhere around 10:00 pm and my husband and I watched the fireworks on all of the news stations.
My OB/GYN laid across the foot of my bed and we all watched television in the darkness and stillness of the hospital - waiting for Son #3 to decide it was time.
My husband teased and cajoled me that I need to get a move on things if we were going to make the Fourth of July cutoff at midnight.
Sometime after midnight - closer to 1:30 p.m. - it was time.
The nurses came in.
The lights stayed off.
My doctor stayed in her sweats.
My husband stayed close by - all of our voices low.
Almost whispering as if we would disturb our own silence.
I never felt pain.
There was no drama.
Not like the others.
No yelling.
No forceps.
No emergency c-sections.
No loss of heartbeat.
No raging fevers.
Just a very quiet, peaceful night.
I thought perhaps he would make his entrance like that of a firecracker on the Fourth of July -
But no.
It was the most wonderful birth.
Truly perfect.
On July 5, 1998 at 2:21 a.m. - our third son arrived.
He has been exactly the same since the night he was born.
Calm in nature.
Quiet in thoughts.
Today he is 13 years old.
A teenager.
His two older brothers had births that rocked my world.
As teenagers, they have continued to keep things exciting at the very least.
But Son #3 was a wonderful surprise of peaceful bliss at birth.
Perhaps he will be the teenager that will continue to surprise me.
Perhaps he will be a different kind of teenager...
that never complains that I don't understand...
that still loves hugs from his mom...
Gee - with hopes of that magnitude, maybe I'd better be the one making the wish when the candles are blown out today.
Watching him play out back with his friends today - jumping on the trampoline, throwing horseshoes, and playing badminton - I can't help but hear the soundtrack playing over the scene...
"When I grow up to be a man-
Will I dig the same things that turn me on as a kid?
Will I look back and say that I wish I hadn't done what I did?
Will I joke around and still dig those sounds
When I grow up to be a man?
Will I look for the same things in a woman that I dig in a girl?
(fourteen fifteen)
Will I settle down fast or will I first wanna travel the world?
(sixteen seventeen)
Now I'm young and free, but how will it be
When I grow up to be a man?
Will my kids be proud or think their old man is really a square?
(eighteen nineteen)
When they're out having fun yeah, will I still wanna have my share?
(twenty twenty-one)
Will I love my wife for the rest of my life
When I grow up to be a man?
What will I be when I grow up to be a man?
(twenty-two twenty-three)
Won't last forever
(twenty-four twenty-five)
It's kind of sad
(twenty-six twenty-seven)
Won't last forever
(twenty-eight twenty-nine)
It's kind of sad
(thirty thirty-one)
Won't last forever
(thirty-two . . .)"
Happy 13th Birthday Son #3!
I love you to the sky and back...
...always will.
When I Grow Up To Be A Man (Click to Listen)
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