I don't have to remind you that birthdays are a big deal around here. One of our funny traditions is to watch the clock for the 'exact time' the birthday person turns their new age. (Poor Joshua's is usually before anyone wakes up.) We usually remember, but the odd time we forget, like last month on Megan's birthday, we all lament and moan as though without the recognition of the time, the new age is null and void.
Last night Luke was packing up the birthday treats to share with his class today. He said that the teacher lets the birthday child pass them out 'whenever', and then with a sudden spurt of enthusiasm, he asked, "What time exactly was I born? I'm going to ask Mr Mills if I can pass them out at that time."
And then it happened. That which I never thought was possible. I couldn't remember the exact time. Sure I knew it was 10 something in the morning. And I also knew perfectly well that it was only 19 minutes after arriving at the hospital, but I couldn't remember whether it was 10:19am or 10:41am. So I left my turn of dishwasher emptying to hurry to the file drawer to consult Luke's birth certificate.
Only to discover I was wrong.
Luke was born at 10:43am.
Oh what memories of that day. I woke up and felt what I thought was a contraction just before 8am. I proceeded to shower, dress, and then settled into the chair in what was to be Luke's bedroom to read three year old Megan a book.
And I felt some discomfort.
And then I felt some pain.
But having had only one baby previously, and my water breaking before I ever had a contraction, this discomfort was all very new to me. (With Megan, I got an epidural before I ever felt a contraction. But there's a whole 'nother story and opinion about that.)
The discomfort continued and I decided to call Mike who was working 50 miles away to say, "I think I might have the baby today, maybe you should come home." He questioned, "'Maybe' come home or 'should' come home?" I don't remember what I answered, but his father's intuition must have been in high gear, because he immediately left for home.
I could drag this story out, but I'll spare everyone the details and instead say what Luke likes to occasionally say, "I was almost born in the car."
I think he secretly wishes he really was born in the car as it really would make the story sound so much better. But I'll settle for what happened. Nineteen minutes at the hospital, still in my regular clothes, and no one knowing my name until the baby was safely delivered, resting in my arms, and the nurse asked while poised to type on the keyboard in front of her, "Now what is your name?"
And that's what I was doing 10 years ago today.
Happy 10th Birthday Luke!!!