The Wee was a dude we waited awhile for. Husband traveled 200+ days a year from August 2009 to this July as he was on the maintenance crew of The Thunderbirds. He went to airshows anywhere from 5 days a week to six full weeks from March to November every year. Because of all this traveling, it made it hard to think about having babies, let alone conceive them. Not only that, but Husband was the only dude on the team who did his specific job during the vast majority of his three years with them which meant he had to go to every show whether he wanted to or not. Once he found out he had a counterpart arriving by the end of the 2011 season to assist him, we decided it was time.
Luckily for us, I'm friggin' fertile as they come. I removed my birth control March 7th and found out I was pregnant March 22nd. Yeah. True story. So, thus began my pregnancy journey, more or less alone. I knew I wouldn't have Husband home a lot, but that didn't make it any easier with what were then a four-year-old and and almost three-year-old. My pregnancy was rough. I had contractions starting at about 20 weeks and they went through all the way until the day I had him.
The Wee was a STUBBORN baby. He was breech (aka his bum was stuck in my pelvis) for almost all of the third trimester. I tried some weird stuff to get him to flip around. I laid with my butt on the couch and my head on the ground upside down whilst icing The Wee's head where it was positioned in my ribs because my doctor told me that it'd make him turn head down. Um... yeah... all that did was give me some insane contractions and I'm pretty sure I could hear tiny, maniacal laughing inside my stomach. My doctor also suggested I tried acupuncture on my feet because that apparently helps the baby turn, too. Well, it didn't.
I had all my babies at 38 weeks. My doctor knew this and was worried that since The Wee was not flipping around and since I was also dilated to a four at 37 weeks, Doc decided to do a manual aversion. Basically, from the outside of my stomach, they flipped The Wee head down. They gave me a spinal to do so just in case it put him in distress and they needed to do an emergency C-section. That crap felt WEIRD. Even though I had a spinal, I could still feel the two doctors performing the aversion squeezing the ever-loving shiz out of my stomach as well as The Wee slithering from one position to another. I was a little bit loopy at this point and I remember saying "Have you guys seen Alien? It feels like that's what's going on with my stomach right now, dude! Something wild is going to pop out of there!" I'm cool. Now you know at least one very good reason why I don't drink.
All went well with the aversion though and I hoped they'd just induce me then so that he wouldn't flip back around, but they made me wait until my 38 week mark to do so. The morning I hit 38 weeks, my doctor called me and told me to come to L&D to have my membranes stripped. If you don't know what it is, you're lucky. That shiz is PAINFUL. Not only did she do it once, she did it twice within ten minutes. Awful. Freaking. City. She checked me again before I left and said I was maybe dilated to 4.5 and said to come back if I had any close contractions later that day and that if I did, she'd just admit me anyway to make sure The Wee didn't try to flip the wrong way again.
We were stationed in Las Vegas at that point and my parents lived about 6-7 hours from us. My mom and one of my sisters drove down after I told them about my morning just in case I went into labor because they were going to sit with my other two boys while I was at the hospital. About an hour before they arrived, I went to the grocery store to get a few things I needed. I figured the walking around couldn't hurt anyway. As I'm pacing the grocery store with my cart, I start contracting. I'm talking awful contractions. I was already there, though, and I wasn't leaving without my needed items because I'm stubborn like that. I'd stop every 6 minutes and bend over while holding the cart and moan louder than some people probably liked. I got some weird looks and I got asked if I needed an ambulance at some point. I just waved and yelled "I'M GOOD!" and would keep going once the contraction wore off. I pushed my cart to my car and then screamed as I loaded my groceries into my trunk. I can only imagine being a witness to this madness... typing it right now sounds pretty freaking hilarious as I recall how it may have been for a bystander.
I finally got home and called my doc to see if I should come in at which point I was told yes. My mom and sister were still not there, so my rad neighbor took my boys until they arrived. Because they don't let you eat at the hospital while you're in labor, I stopped at Jack in the Box on the way to the hospital with Husband. I chowed down in discomfort and moaned/screamed my way all the way up to L&D.
Once we arrived, I was admitted and was definitely dilated quite a bit more than I when I was there earlier. Once my doc arrived, I was told I had to wait until I got to a 7 before I could get my epidural. My anesthesiologist, as it turned out, was married to a lady who went to my high school, but was like 5 years older than me. So, we talked about that and cupcakes. Retro Cupcakes to be exact. If you're ever in Las Vegas... EAT THEM. They will melt your face. Once my epidural was done, however, I dilated to a ten VERY quickly.
Six hours after my arrival to the hospital, I had The Wee at 11:36 PM. 7 lbs 10 oz and 20 inches long. It was funny because my sister text me like 5 minutes after I gave birth to ask how things were going and I replied "I just pushed that dude out a few minutes ago. Updates soon.". She was pretty shocked that I'd responded when I was still being cleaned up from all that mess. Meh, whatever.
So this brings me to today...
The Wee is ONE today! This dude is, by far, my chillest baby. He's happy all the time and he is a major smarty pants. I am constantly impressed by how rad he is. This picture was taken yesterday, so it is the most recent portrayal of the cuteness that is The Wee. I love him bad. I know that's not grammatically correct, but I don't care. It's how much I love him.
I'm sad that Husband couldn't be here to partake in his first birthday, but we had cake last weekend in which Husband was able to witness via FaceTime. God bless Steve Jobs and his Appley friends. So grateful for the technology that makes all this happy junk possible. So, Happy Birthday WEEEEEE!!! We love your whole little face!!
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