How Grateful I Am…

How Grateful I Am...

January 12, 1979, 35 years ago today. It was a Friday. I remember it oh too well. I was working at Pac Bell or was it still called PT&T? They changed the name so many times it’s hard to recall. Anyway, known as AT&T today, I was there in the office. I had planned January 12th to be my last day before taking time off with a baby due any minute. I could hardly walk. He had dropped and it felt like I was dragging around a 12 pound bowling ball positioned in my loins. We had a receptionist named Trixie. She kept asking me to take calls which meant rolling out of my seat, waddling to her desk to pick up a customer’s file card and waddle back to take the call. Seemed like she was doing this over and over, with plenty of other employees from which to choose. Was she not noticing my glaring expression, or that I was walking like an obese duck ready to lay the egg of an ostrich? You know the “glow” they say pregnant women have? I did NOT glow! What was WRONG with her? By 5 o’clock I was ready to punch her in the face.
I remember FINALLY getting to leave work. I picked up my not quite 3 year old and 18 month old sons from day care, drove home and fell on the bed. Exhausted was an understatement. My husband was in charge and I could totally just lay on the bed like a beached whale and not move.
Within an hour or so, I was moving…. I knew it was time. Baby was ready and so was I. I summoned my toddler to go tell daddy it was time to go have a baby. Away to the hopsital we went as my husband cracked jokes just like he did with the other 2 births. I was never quite sure if this was meant to calm him down or he thought it would take away the pain. At any rate, I am NOT in a laughing mood here! I remember the nurse asking me if I wanted drugs. HA! Are you kidding me? I’ll take whatever you got – this is my last kid and I don’t care about being a symbol of courage or bravery, in the name of womens’s lib or whatever – so popular at the time. Just kill the pain before I kill you. I remember looking at my husband with a scowl and saying, “I am never EVER doing this again!” I think he cracked another joke.
Saturday morning, January 13th, 1979, 5:45 am. My healthy, beautiful 8lbs, 7oz, baby boy is here. The pain is gone, and completely forgotten. (Okay, well almost…) Thirty five years later… I see this same baby boy with his 2 baby boys. I see him in their faces and him in their antics and relive MY little boy through his. Time marches on with the joy of new children, my blessings continue, how grateful I am. Happy Birthday baby boy!

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