Happy Birthday, My Boy

Today is The Kid's seventh birthday. I can hardly believe it – these last few years have just flown by and now my child is a full fledged kid. He had free reign today, within reason, which means he could have pancakes for breakfast and fish sticks and bbq potato chips for lunch, but he had to include some apple slices and he could not (much to his chagrin) play his Nintendo DS until he needs carpal tunnel surgery.

All those years ago, as soon as I learn my due date was December 20^th (and we were sure about conception, so I took my due date very seriously) I began to make plans for keeping my child's birthday separate from Christmas. We would, I decided, celebrate a little on his actual day of birth and throw him a real birthday party on his half-birthday in June. Even before he was born, The Kid had two birthdays. And yes, if you look up control issues in the dictionary there is a little picture of me. His real birthday became known as his "little" birthday and on this day he gets to choose where we go for dinner, has a cake and a smallish gift from us. We pull all the stops out on his "big" birthday in June.

Every year I tell him the story of his birth – how his dad spilled coffee on my favorite sweater while I enjoyed pitocin-induced labor. How he refused to budge and eventually his heart rate began to dip with the contractions and my obstetrician came in and said it was time to do a c-section. I did not argue. I was determined to have that baby and if he had suggested that I try to squeeze him out of my ear, I would have done it. Talking with the doctor later it was clear that the c-section was an emergency one. I didn't realize this at the time. I had known all along I might have to have one, narrow pelvis, etc. and I had so much confidence in my doctor I wasn't afraid at all. Although I was a little unnerved when the anesthesiologist answered her cell phone during the surgery and calmly told someone on the other end what kind of chinese food she wanted for lunch!

If Lefty were telling the story he would mention how my doctor said, "Hey, look at this" and held up my ovaries in his hands for Lefty to see.

So every year I tell The Kid the story, bake him a cake and brave the rigors of someplace like Chuck E Cheese as I remember that day when my life irrevocably took off in another direction.

Happy Birthday, My Beautiful Boy! You are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to me.