LOVED being pregnant. I got to eat whatever I wanted, didn’t worry about my body image and had an awesome man for my child’s father. I also swelled up to the size of Cleveland, waddled around (though I truly didn’t ever think I waddled) and at some point had to go buy a pair of really expensive “clog-slippers” because my big fat swollen feet would not fit into anything else. I was most definitely nnot one of those beautiful Madonna-esque mothers to be.

Michael and I had purposely not found out the gender of our child. I told him if I was going to have to go through labor, I wanted some sort of a surprise at the end. On this particular day, I got my surprise. It was 4 weeks until my due date. Thankfully, I had managed a project for my company to implement remote access and given I was a piloting member, I was able to work from home. Being as swollen as I was, I had promised my doctor I would work from home at least 2 days per week.

On any given day, I may have tummy troubles. I have been blessed with a pretty messed up inside and as a consequence, my intestines get tangled up fairly easily. A tangle can equal an awful lot of pain, a visit to or stay in the hospital, or in my case, I got to get a nice chunk of my intestines removed while vising Michael when we were first dating. (That’s another lonnnnnng story or later). This particular day, I was having tummy troubles. It had gone on for a few days and was escalating rather quickly.

Michael and I lived out in the boonies, about 45 minutes west of Richmond. It was a month before my due date and Michael was in a day-long session for work. At some point in the early afternoon, I called him to say I wasn’t feeling well and was going in to see the doctor. Nothing to worry about, I would just let him know what was up after I saw the doctor. By the time I got to the doctor’s office, it was getting worse. My normal doctor wasn’t around, so I had to see some random guy who didn’t know anything about my history.   Without a thought, he decided I was in labor and sent me over to the birthing center.

Now, I have never been in labor before, but I could tell you I wasn’t in labor. I called Michael on my way over, told him I didn’t think I was in labor, but they were going to hook me up to monitor me and check it out. My doctor showed up what seemed to me to be a few hours later. She agreed with me that I wasn’t in labor, but she didn’t know what she should do. By this time, the pain had escalated to a point where I could barely concentrate when people were asking me questions, so I wasn’t much help.

Thank goodness for Michael! He came in about 30 minutes after my normal OB arrived, took one look at me and started asking the right questions. Remember, he had seen this before. He reminded my doctor of my previous surgery and the reason for it. They talked about options for awhile, but the bottom line was, the baby was going to have to get out of the way or I was going to be in some serious trouble.

The neo-natal doctor was called in along with a GI doctor to deal with my insides after the baby was born. They prepped me pretty quickly and wheeled me back into the operating room. Michael scrubbed up and was allowed to be in the room for the baby’s birth. Due to the nature of my illness, they didn’t do the nice little “bikini” cut for the c-section, but had to follow my original scar from above the belly button down. Michael would later describe what he saw as one lady on my right and one on my left side, each one pulling as hard as they could to move the muscles to allow access to the baby. Then when the baby was removed and laid on my abdomen, he thought they had removed my liver!

They took the baby away to clean her up and do all that stuff they do with newborns and in moved the GI doctor to finish the rest of the surgery. They told Michael he could leave or they would raise the curtain, but he asked to stay and watch. The doctor just shrugged and said sure and went about his business. All was well…….they patient was going to live. J

Later that evening, after the baby had settled in the NICU and I was resting in the recovery room, Michael came to say goodnight. He left with me the polaroid the nurses took of him holding the baby with me so I could see our little girl when I woke up.

I didn’t get to see her in person for 2 days, but finally insisted they take me down so I could see her. For showing up a month early, she was still a 7lb 9oz baby – fully baked in most edges of the universe. She was beautiful then and now at 16 is tall, beautiful, brilliant and talented.

I have heard people say that God puts some chemical in our brain or erases our memories to cause women to forget what labor is like almost immediately after birth. They say if He didn’t, then women would never have more than 1 child because they would never go through that again on purpose. I agree.  I remember all the details of that day, everything except the pain and discomfort….

And then………there were two………..

This year, as with every year, I took my Christmas decorations down on New Years Day.  I don’t know when this tradition (if you can really call it that) even started, but I have been following this timeline for years.

As I always do when I put UP the Christmas tree, I drift off down memory lane as I put the Christmas tree away as well.  I can tell a specific story about every single ornament on the tree.  Today, I want to share a story about these.

The first ornament is not a pretty one.  It is made of plastic and is supposed to look like winter flowers.  My brother Todd made that ornament while he was in Boy Scouts probably 50 plus years ago.  When I was a little girl and decorated the tree, Todd’s ornament was always the first one I would put on the Tree – even on the ugly Silver Aluminum Tree.

The set of 3 are a small example of how my Nana would spend her time in the late 60’s.  Even with her arthritic hands, my Nana would spend hours upon hours in a chair watching the Cubs play (she was a die-hard fan) and making Christmas Ornaments.  These are made by starting with a satin covered Styrofoam form, stick pins, pearl beads, ribbon, sequins and whatever else your imagination could come up with.  Between myself and my mother, I suspect I had over 100 of these at one time.  Not one exactly like the other, they are all amazing and I truly cannot pick a favorite.  Unfortunately, over many moves, I am down to about 20 of these ornaments now.

One of my favorite rememberances, however, is that my Nana taught Keith and I to make these ornaments.   In hindsight, I assume my mother sent us down to Nana’s house to get some time to herself, but I loved to hang out down there and make ornaments.  The ugly sequined ornament pictured above is the very first ornament I had ever made.  When I put it on the tree each year, I have flashbacks to sitting with my Nana and Keith, watching the cubs on her console TV in the hot summer days and her patience as she showed us how to make ornaments too.

I have been telling these stories to my kids for years.  Not just about these sequin ornaments, but each one on the tree.  Now they tell the stories without me even asking as they admire each ornament while decorating the tree.  One day, I hope they will do the same with their kids.

THIS is how family stories are shared…….