Cinco de Mayo

Five years ago tomorrow (since I'll be too busy at the fiesta to post):

All of the below has already happened now.

I make dh promise that on this child's fifth birthday party, we have a big party. I know we won't be able to afford a great first birthday party and besides, it's the first time I can imagine, in that moment, ever feeling safe again. DH agrees. He doesn't agree to the mariachi band (and we are not having one tomorrow). A little more time passes, and I begin to believe I'm not going to survive, even if ds does. It's probably the sleep deprivation.

A nurse realizes that they gave me that belated and ineffectual epidural without draining my bladder first. Later this will be called "poor service, good technical outcome," and I will hear medical staff discussing my "case," feeling lucky that we brought them "thank you" chocolates and not a law suit.

I finally deliver my son, almost in the hallway. I don't push, and we make it to a delivery room. The room is full. Pediatric rescusitation teams, fellow, resident, dh, me. I think about a dozen people. It's a big, cold room.

Two real pushes. His head is very misshapen, it has been so compressed for so long. I am so weak, I cannot feel my body and for this I am thankful. But I cannot see my son; they've taken him quickly and they've made no move to hand him to me. Then a "thumbs up" from the peds. I miss this, because I'm not wearing my glasses. Someone tells me. Dh accompanies ds to the nursery - I say, "Go, go," and I close my eyes.

I open them again in recovery, and my parents are there. My dad is holding my hand; he tells me he's seen my beautiful baby and that everything is okay. I slip away: I think I've died, but I know this is okay because my baby is okay, and I am profoundly grateful.

Imagine my surprise when I come around a little later. Everything afterwards feels a little like bonus.

Dear son, happy birthday. I could not imagine my life without you! Much much love, Momma.