My Greatest Christmas Gift

From the very moment I’d found out that I was pregnant with Henry, I knew this pregnancy would be 100% different from my first.   I was terrified, selfishly, and it impacted how I went about my days with Davey.   I was sick, tired, and moody.   For the longest time, I was convinced Henry would be a girl.

His actual birthday was to be December 20th, but thanks in part to my previous C-section and my desire to not have his birthday so close to Christmas, Henry Bruce Doser was born on Friday the 13th in 2013.

Yesterday, we celebrated the 2nd birthday of my second and final biological child.   And much like with his big brother, I put him to sleep last night with the story of his birth, which went a little something like this.

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Prince Henry’s first official picture.

Once upon a time, the king and queen decided to add another prince to their family.   Their oldest was just a little over two years in age, when the second prince made his entrance.   He was scheduled to arrive at 1:30 on Friday the 13th, but by 8 am that morning he started making his imminent arrival known.   The queen dealt with cramps and lower back pain, those that nearly mirrored her kidney stones from 14 years prior (at this Henry looked at me and laughed).   She gripped tightly to the king’s arms as he walked her into the hospital.

The queen was placed in a room with machines hooked up to her and wrapped around her belly.   The king sat alongside of her, occasionally stroking her arm, but mostly watching a Chuck Norris movie on television.  The incessant beeping of the machines, coupled with the contractions and the king’s inability to empathize, forced the queen to make a decision…The king was to be banished and the Queen Mother was to arrive.

Henry birth 1

As the hours went by, the Queen and her mother discussed upcoming Christmas plans, what it was like for the Queen Mother to give birth so many years ago, and what sort of crazy family member was doing the unthinkable.   Finally the time arrived when the queen was to go into surgery and so the king joined her.

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A half hour later and Prince Doser II was born.   He wailed and he squirmed, making his entrance known.   He was just an ounce heavier than his older brother and the same height.   What a fine looking young prince he would be.   And in royal fashion it was decreed he would be named Prince Henry Bruce Doser.

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Prince Davey meeting Prince Henry.

 

A short time later, Prince Davey, the older prince, entered the glass tower (as he called it) to meet his younger brother.   Prince Davey held tightly to the newborn prince, cradling him lovingly in his arms, even leaning over to kiss him.   The queen sat in her bed, staring at her beautiful boys and thanked the Lord for the blessings He bestowed upon her.   And from that moment forward they lived happily ever after.

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Prince Davey giving Prince Henry his first brotherly kiss.

Every parent has a tradition, be it big or small when it comes to celebrating their children’s birthdays.   This is mine.

Henry laid in his bed, listening intently to my words, his thumb in his mouth.   Occasionally he smiled, but mostly he listened and stroked my hair.   At the end of my story, he kissed my cheek and said, “hap birthday me, mommy.”

My days become inundated with the grind of raising two boys, the stress, the guilt, and the pain, but I wouldn’t trade one second of any of it.   And people tell me I’ll miss these days.  I laugh in their faces, but I know the days are coming when hearing their birth stories will no longer be wanted, that the hugs will diminish, and the cuddles will become obsolete.   It saddens me and I realize these are some of the best days of my life and I WILL miss this.

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Eating his birthday cake. Happy 2nd birthday, Prince Henry.

As I kissed him goodnight, he whispered, “love you, mommy” and I melted.   He was, and still is, my greatest Christmas gift.

Justifiable Self Pity or Pregnancy Hormones? You Decide.

My oh my! I just looked at the date of my last post and it’s been over a month! What was I thinking letting this blog go for so long without an update or post about the waning few weeks of pregnancy? Well, what I was thinking was absolutely nothing! I honestly think I’ve started spending the latter few weeks of my pregnancy spinning into a downward spiral of negative emotions.

From the start, this pregnancy has been the complete opposite of my first. That’s nothing unusual. No two things in life are the same. I’ve experienced morning sickness that seemed to completely steer clear of me while pregnant with Davey. I didn’t have the emotional breakdowns I’ve experienced while carrying Henry (speaking of, what if there was a mistake and Henry isn’t a Henry???). On the plus side, I haven’t gained as much weight as I did with Davey. Of course, I’m attributing that to the fact that I’ve been a lot more health conscious this time around. As a matter fact, when I took my glucose test with Henry, I had 25 points to play around with, while I almost failed with Davey!

But one thing I’ve dealt with that was completely obsolete to me with Davey is contractions. Two weeks ago, I drove myself to the doctor with lower abdominal cramps and lower back pain. I had just dropped Davey off at school and had errands to run. I couldn’t exactly stand straight, but I told myself to power through! This was the only time I could run errands…when Davey was in school. After running my errands, I called the doctor and while I was on hold (don’t worry I have blue tooth in my car) I began driving in the direction of my doctor’s office.

My first thought was that I had kidney stones! I’ve had these before, albeit 12 years ago, but the feeling is something you don’t really forget. I had a few tears trickle down my cheek as I prayed to God to not let me have kidney stones on top of this pregnancy. Surely He wouldn’t do that to me, right? Fortunately, it wasn’t kidney stones, but instead contractions! What was that? Contractions? Surely you gest, I told the doctor. No, she informed me, she was not joking. Huh! So that’s what a contraction feels like? Yeah, I’m pretty certain I don’t like them.

I was informed that I needed to be off my feet. So, what does that mean to my 2 year old? That the poor child is now forced to succumb to the same level of cabin fever that I was soon to develop. Off of my feet? I’m not an “off my feet” type of person. There’s too much to do around the house and outside of the house. This was not and is not boding well for my sanity.

I’ve cried about missing my beloved Clemson Tigers play on a Thursday night, when my husband and I were to have an adult night and Davey was to stay with my parents. I’ve cried about the fact that I’m now forced to rely on my husband to pick up the slack around the house (not that he’s not capable, but it’s really not fair). I can’t even go to the gym anymore and get on the bike. Technically, I could have used all of this spare time to write my blog, but I’ve felt indifferent to the whole thing.

I’ve managed to allow myself to slip into an emotional state that almost feels like depression, but it’s more like self pity. So, what’s happened today you ask? What’s happened to encourage me to write a blog now? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because Thanksgiving is just around the corner and in spite of my self pity, I do have a lot to be thankful for. Maybe it’s because my husband decided to go into work late today so that he could take Davey to school and I could just stay home. Maybe it’s because I got a good night’s sleep. Maybe it’s because I feel like I can breathe again (since my husband spent the weekend cleaning our house). Whatever the reason, I feel like I’m back. I have two and a half weeks (maybe less) until my scheduled C-section. I can see that light at the end of the tunnel.

I worry that I may suffer from post partum depression after Henry arrives. I worry about this just because of my recent emotional state. I’ve felt like I’ve been suffering out of body experiences, but for the first time in months, today I feel like I can have it under control. Today it feels like a good day!