Fifteen years ago today, I'd already been in labor for 36 hours with no end in sight. I'd been on bedrest at Utah Valley Hospital for 11 weeks and I was worn out. I clearly remember curling into a ball and begging my husband to demand that the doctor get the baby out. It was one of the most excruciating things I've ever been through.
Fifteen years later, I can tell you it was all worth it. Tomorrow my first born son came into this world.
Not all pink and pretty. Not with a shout or cry of elation. After 72 hours of labor and a delivery with forceps, he was purple, bruised from stem to stern and lifeless. The Newborn ICU team went to work on him and managed to get him breathing. A mere two weeks later we brought him home, but those first few days were pretty hard on both of us.
If you could only see him now! He's beautiful, smart, strong and my favorite teenager. I know that rough beginnings never determine what outcomes will be like, but back then I was terrified for him. So tiny. So fragile and so dependant.
Tomorrow he'll be fifteen, and it amazes me how far he's come and how quickly. It seems like only yesterday we were snuggled up on the couch together watching Elmo or singing along with the Star Trek theme song. He doesn't remember the worst parts of it, probably a good thing. I, however, still see his brilliant blue eyes and tender little face every time he lets me hug him or kiss him goodbye before school in the mornings.
I don't get the chance very often to babble on and on about him. He's a teenager, and I only embarrass him. Tomorrow is his birthday though, and I can indulge for just a moment. I earned that right after 3 days of labor.
So, despite the rough beginning you had, Zack, I'm so glad you're here. Even when you don't do your chores, tease your brother and argue with me just because you can. I adore you. Happy Birthday!