I didn’t get there last time and believe me, it wasn’t because I didn’t try. We were making all kinds of traffic infractions, but I just didn’t make it. The process happened so fast so I missed the window of opportunity.
Even though people tell you, you forget the pain, they lie. Because you recognize it when it hits your abdomen. Then comes your back. Your aching back. It’s so excruciating that profanity constantly fills the room. You try not to, but it just comes out. Even in a Catholic Hospital.
Granted everyone’s experience is quite different, but everyone feels pain, even a little. If they say they don’t, that’s probably because the drugs are working.
These pains caused me such agony that I was calling on all Gods and Powers that be to make sure I had made it in time — made it to the window of opportunity. The Epidural Opportunity.
Now I’m not a wuss, and my pain threshold is pretty high, but there was no need to test my limits. Really there wasn’t. I had gone through that entire process before and let’s just say that I’m not a fan pain. Just because I can take it, doesn’t mean I should do it again.
And yes … yes this time, the window of opportunity was still there.
But all that pain, agony, swearing, and needles shoved into my veins brought me the joys of motherhood once again. A year ago today my daughter was born, and we celebrated her initiation into The Guat Family with a little cake, a little bouncer, and a few games. Her big party, along with my son’s is on Sunday, but the memory was created today.
One year of limited sleep.
One year of 2 a.m. feedings.
One year of 6 a.m. wake up calls.
One year of washing 20 Doctor Brown baby bottle parts a day.
One year of dirty Huggies diapers.
One year of random screaming.
One year of purchasing multiple pacifiers.
One year of people trying to give me pink things even though they know I hate pink.
One year of baby-proofing stuff that is never really baby proof.
One year of vaccinations and the crying that goes with it.
One year of crying because she’s sleepy.
One year of crying because she’s hungry.
One year of crying because she’s teething.
One year of crying for no reason.
One year of losing my mind.
One year of giggles.
One year of enthusiastic screaming when I enter the room.
One year of baby dancing when she hears music.
One year of watching a brother love his sister.
One year of smiles.
One year of puppy-dog eyes.
One year of ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers.
One year of another little Guat hanging around.
One year today.