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Today is my baby's birthday. He turns 4! I can't believe he's been here for four years already and at the same time, I can't remember life without him.
His name is Davis Emmett M. His middle name is the same as my FIL and Dave didn't like it but since he got to name the first boy and the name he chose for that, well, I decided this one gets a family name!
We wanted at least one of each, preferably first a boy, then a girl. Maybe 3 kids. We had all the names picked out before we even got married! We had a deal, Dave gets to name the first boy, I'd name the first girl, then we'd switch. The other person had right of veto. We got married April 22, 2000 and we had these intense little negotiations about when to start making the kids. We were both 30 (D. was almost 31) when we got married. D.'s parents were 40 when they had him and he wanted to get started right away. I wanted to wait awhile, at least a year! We went back and forth and finally decided on starting that August. We figured I'd be due at the beginning of summer and that'd be perfect for several reasons...
a) who the hell wants to be pregnant in summer?? Especially in the Tucson desert?
b) summer was the slow season at the spa and I could take the time off no problem
c) I'd get to be a practice client at the massage school for the prenatal massage class! (Score!)
OK, so we were super lucky that both times we wanted to get pregnant - BAM - good to go first try. We wanted our second child to be two years after our first and August worked so well the first time, we gave it a go the second time around.
This pregnancy wasn't as easy as the first and I ballooned up like crazy. I'm only 5'2" and I topped out at 198 pounds at the end! During the sonogram, I couldn't take it and said, "Just tell me." Another boy. Initially, we were both a little disappointed but quickly got over it. (When I really sat down and thought about it, the only reason I wanted a girl was because, who else was I going to pass all my crap down too?) Then my FIL told us that his sister (Dave's aunt) was the first girl in their family in one hundred years!! And there's only been one since her. If we did go for the third kid, we'd just have another boy anyway! So we decided we were done after this one.
Didn't have any cravings with this pregnancy until I was 7 months along. I was at a party to watch the last episode of one of The Bachelor. We were at a woman's house that has a Martha Stewart flair and she had quite a spread out! There was a huge pile of roast beef next to a bowl of soft rolls and a bowl of horseradish. I made a little sandwich with the meat and sauce. Then I had two (or three, four maybe?) more with just the bread and horseradish! I had horseradish every day til I gave birth. I still love it and recently found this at Safeway.
Horseradish and cheese? Heaven!
With this birth, we decided to do a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). I started labor on a Friday morning and finally had him on Sunday night. (little rat!) It was very - start, here we go, psych. Sunday evening, I'd finally had enough and went to the hospital and told them to check me in. When we first got to our birthing room, I had the nurse check me and she told me I was only 3 cm dilated. "WHAT?" Then she strapped me to some monitors, put a wedge behind my back and left. The pain was too much. I told Dave I didn't think I could do it. (We had talked about going natural. Either way, I wasn't going to do an epidural until I was at least 6 cm. Statistically, if you do it before that, you triple your chances of emergency c-section.)
5 minutes later, I got the nurse that was going to help the midwife for the birth, Beth. She had me get on my knees on the bed and face the headboard. Wow, 80% less pain, instantly. (Why didn't that other wench tell me that? Maybe because I yelled at her?) Karen, the midwife, showed up shortly thereafter.
We spent the next 2 hours changing positions and trying to keep comfortable (yeah, right). When we got to 6cm dilation I gave up, "OK, epidural." Karen said, "It's going too fast, there's no time." A couple of minutes later, she left the room to get some paperwork and I asked Beth (the not-midwife nurse),"OK, seriously, Beth. Is she just saying that because she's a midwife and doesn't want me to do it?" Beth assured me it was going too fast. Damn! (Funny though, because when Karen got there and had checked me out, she told Dave that we were going to be here all night! Smart woman told him while I was in the bathroom.) Karen did give me a shot of something that made me feel very drunk for about 30 minutes. It really helped, broke the pain cycle and took the edge off.
So two hours of serious labor, 20 minutes of pushing and we had ourselves a baby!
See the horns? Just kidding.
Of course the one with the big head comes out the normal way.
After we moved to our regular hospital room, I sent Dave home. They had a pullout couch in the room but Dave's 6'1" and I knew the nurses would be in every two hours or so. (BTW, Trev was staying with the grandparents at our house and we'd spent the past two days at their house which was a 3 min. drive from the hospital.)
When we first got to our room, a very nice nurse came in to see if we were settled and asked, "Are you comfortable? Can I get you a sangwich?" (That's not a typo) We assured her we were fine.
When you have a baby, you have no control over your bladder. I wet the bed. Embarrassing! I buzzed for a nurse and as usual, they call back over the intercom instead of just coming in, "What do you need?" I didn't want to say, figured all the other nurses were there within hearing distance, so I said, "I, uh, made a mess." "OK, we'll be right there." A different nurse from the "sangwich" nurse came in. This one had her hair and makeup all done perfect and pretty - looked like a china doll. She helped me to the bathroom, cleaned me up, cleaned the bed up and when I was getting back into the bed... I had one leg on the bed, one on the floor with the lovely open-backed hospital gown when this woman (who is standing behind me at the time) says, "You have very pretty eyes." I just had a baby and was a little loopy and tired and for a second, thought she was talking about the baby's eyes. "What did you say?", I asked. "You have very pretty eyes." All I could think was, 'You're not looking at my eyes.' "Thanks," I said, "You have very pretty.... hair." 'Weird and uncomfortable,' I thought, 'Can I just have my sangwich now?' Was that weird or was it just me?
So Davis. He's our serious one. He's friendly and laughs like crazy and loves to meet people but he has a serious side the other one just doesn't have. He's a smart little kid. He's the best at coming up with names for his "friends". We got him a stuffed dinosaur for xmas '05. (Looked all over town for one. They are impossible to find. Everything was too big or too hard. Dave found a perfect one for $5 on xmas eve. At Walgreens!) We asked him what he was going to name it. At 2 1/2, he said, "Peto Rex". We call him Peto. He also has little teddy bears, one's named Junior, the other is Freckles. And a stuffed bulldog named Otto.
Ever since he was 2 years old, people have commented on how well he speaks. However, he also has his own little language he made up. He resorts to it when he's feeling silly and when he doesn't want to talk to/answer you. He's terribly independent and our little daredevil. Once, on a trip, we had him in the pool (he was about 18 months old). I was holding his sides while he held on to the edge with his hands and pushed off the pool wall with his feet. He kept insisting I let him go, that he could do it himself. I had to keep reminding him... "You don't know how to swim." Finally, I just put my hand under his swim diaper where he couldn't feel it. Then he turns around and said, "SEE?!" Yes, I see.
If I had to guess a career from his personality, I'd have to say engineer. He will stay with something until. He. Has. Figured. It. Out. He's rather mechanically inclined and it's too cute to see his brow all knitted up while he learns something. He loves to have his picture taken but always wants to frown when we take it. He had a babysitter who was an excellent artist. Once, she wanted to draw the boys as safari guys in a jungle. She told Trev to smile and drew him up, she told Davis to smile and he said, "No. I want you to draw me mad." She did!
Here's a pic of him showing me his latest owies.
Trev's a carbon copy of me. Looks, personality, everything. Davis is Dave. He's a little instigator, a daredevil and a bit more reticent then his older brother. But a sweeter, funnier little kid doesn't exist.
Happy Birthday Davis. Looking forward to the rest, Mommy