Deuces Wild

Hah! You have no idea how much it excited me to have a catchy title for this post!

My sweet baby is two today. Avery Jon Weatherby. We spent the morning at DinoLand in a nearby shopping mall. The sweet thing tuckered himself out, so he's napping right now. And that's fine by Mama...it gives me some time to sit and reminisce about the day he came into our lives.

My due date was February 12th. By February 1st (or even earlier...I remember thinking I would be ok with him being born the middle of January) I was convinced I was carrying the world's largest baby and was going to die trying to deliver him. I had one false alarm (I wish everyone knew what it was like to be sent home after rushing to the hospital because you thought it was The BIG Moment) a couple days before the real BIG Moment. By the last four weeks, I couldn't eat comfortably, I couldn't breathe comfortably, and I couldn't sleep comfortably. And I was downright mean. That's what happens to a woman who's sleep deprived and can't even look at milk without getting heartburn.

Then, on the night of February 4th, I started to have some mild contractions. At about 5 a.m., I called the labor and delivery nurse, let her know what was going on, and was instructed to take some Tylenol and try to get some sleep. I took a warm bath and the Tylenol, but sleep just wasn't possible. By about 7, my poor, overwhelmed husband had me in the car and on the way to the hospital.

I would like it to go on record that I believe wholeheartedly that this child's main purpose in life is to test my patience.

Once at the hospital, my contractions started to come less frequently. My labor and delivery nurse said that unless I wanted to go home and wait for things to progress more, I should do whatever exercises I could to make things start happening again. I squatted, I walked, I did nipple stimulation (ARGH!!)...to which my child responded, from the comfort of my womb, "No thanks, I think I'll hang here awhile longer."

Thank the heavens above for my doctor. He walked in, asked me if I was ready to have this baby, to which I exclaimed an emphatic, "YES!" By 10:30 I was getting pitocin through my iv. And let me tell you, Mama-to-be was pleased. That is, until the contractions started to get fierce. I'd like you all to know that I never did Lamaze, or any other breathing technique class. Nor did I have an epidural. I'm told this is rare when inducing is involved.

I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they'd snap off in my mouth. I hissed deep breaths in and out. At 1:14 p.m. I was given permission to start pushing. Seven minutes later, at 1:21, my baby boy was born. Avery Jon Weatherby. All 9 lbs. 3 oz. of him. His poor face was bruised from his travels through the birth canal (darn gigantic Weatherby head). His screams let us know how angry he was with us for forcing his arrival. But, oh! What a sight he was! How happy Mama and Daddy were to have him there with us!

We discovered later that due to his large size, his collar bone was broken during delivery. At his first check-up, we also found out he has a heart murmur (more than just a heart murmur, really. An ASD {atrial septal defect} and VSD {ventricular septal defect}...which has been monitored and may eventually need repair). But we wouldn't have him any other way.

Avery, the joy you bring to my life in unquestionable and immeasurable. I adore every moment we spend together, whether I'm arguing with you about why you can't perch on the arm of the couch like a daredevil, or you're throwing your yogurt cup across the room, or you're sleeping peacefully in my arms.

You are loved, sweet boy. Happy Birthday.