You were the only one of my four to come out all on your own. And goodness, did you know how to come out into this wild, blue world or what? It's your favorite story actually. I must have told it to you a thousand times, but here it is again, in all of its fast and sweet glory.
You were late, just like your older sister and your siblings to follow. And after an unsuccessful and horrendous experiment with caster oil, I decided just to let you come when you were ready. That's not an easy thing to do after ten months and a week of waiting, by the way. You'll see. So, after days of you teasing me with false contractions, I went to bed, frustrated and exhausted, only to be woken up a couple hours later by your Daddy's snoring and a deep pulling and pushing in my stomach. We were out the door in less than an hour, after a next door neighbor came down to watch Eleanor as she slept unawares in her soft pink bedroom.
By the time we got to the University of Virginia hospital parking lot, which was less than two miles away, I was cussing like a sailor. No, really, I think that's where my love of a certain four letter word began. I waddled/limped/staggered into Labor and Delivery, all the while Daddy kept telling me to keep it down, to which I responded with the darkest and most threatening of glares, only to be told by the nurses to take a seat and they'd get to me in a bit. What?! Were my involuntary, and very loud "Oh, *&#%!"s not convincing?! The nurse told me to keep it down too and that's when I refrained from the profanity and in perfect English told her the baby was coming soon, very soon. She patted me on the back of my shoulder, gave me an insufferably knowing smile and unbelieving, took me to the nearest table, and to her surprise found that I was dilated to a ten and your head was crowning. Hah! I told you!
They hurried me into the nearest delivery room, now panicked and probably regretting their casual response, I was cussing more than breathing, and yelling for an epidural, and by the time I got up on the table, I could feel your head between my legs. I pushed once and tah, dah! You were there!
Your Daddy and I looked at each other like "What in the world just happened? Did we just have a baby?" "Holy *&#@!" It was 2:58AM. Cold and rainy and the happiest we had ever been.
We never even considered another name besides Ada. It means "rich gift of happiness," "noble, kind" and "a beautiful addition." That's certainly fitting for our sweet, brown eyed beauty. And your middle name Dylan, well, you know that story too. Your Daddy and I went on our first date to a Bob Dylan concert, and fell madly and eternally in love.
Happy Birthday, Ada Dylan.
Love, Mamma
You were late, just like your older sister and your siblings to follow. And after an unsuccessful and horrendous experiment with caster oil, I decided just to let you come when you were ready. That's not an easy thing to do after ten months and a week of waiting, by the way. You'll see. So, after days of you teasing me with false contractions, I went to bed, frustrated and exhausted, only to be woken up a couple hours later by your Daddy's snoring and a deep pulling and pushing in my stomach. We were out the door in less than an hour, after a next door neighbor came down to watch Eleanor as she slept unawares in her soft pink bedroom.
By the time we got to the University of Virginia hospital parking lot, which was less than two miles away, I was cussing like a sailor. No, really, I think that's where my love of a certain four letter word began. I waddled/limped/staggered into Labor and Delivery, all the while Daddy kept telling me to keep it down, to which I responded with the darkest and most threatening of glares, only to be told by the nurses to take a seat and they'd get to me in a bit. What?! Were my involuntary, and very loud "Oh, *&#%!"s not convincing?! The nurse told me to keep it down too and that's when I refrained from the profanity and in perfect English told her the baby was coming soon, very soon. She patted me on the back of my shoulder, gave me an insufferably knowing smile and unbelieving, took me to the nearest table, and to her surprise found that I was dilated to a ten and your head was crowning. Hah! I told you!
They hurried me into the nearest delivery room, now panicked and probably regretting their casual response, I was cussing more than breathing, and yelling for an epidural, and by the time I got up on the table, I could feel your head between my legs. I pushed once and tah, dah! You were there!
Your Daddy and I looked at each other like "What in the world just happened? Did we just have a baby?" "Holy *&#@!" It was 2:58AM. Cold and rainy and the happiest we had ever been.
We never even considered another name besides Ada. It means "rich gift of happiness," "noble, kind" and "a beautiful addition." That's certainly fitting for our sweet, brown eyed beauty. And your middle name Dylan, well, you know that story too. Your Daddy and I went on our first date to a Bob Dylan concert, and fell madly and eternally in love.
Happy Birthday, Ada Dylan.
Love, Mamma
6 comments:
I love this story. I love your love of a 4 letter word too :)You really do have such a way with words :) Happy Birthday Ada!!!
Truly, have 7 years passed since Ada lit up the world? Love her beautiful chocolate eyes.
Happy Birthday to your sweet Ada! I love your story :) My oldest just turned seven last month. It's going by so fast, sweetly, but fast!
I just love you guys.
that's a great story. maybe it was the castor oil???
i didn't know our girls shared a birthday! happy day!
Hey you took down your last post! I loved it so i'll comment about it on this one instead. You touched on one of the things that flits around my head when I think of heaven -- what if it is all work all the time. . . do I really want it? And seriously, do I have to have a billion kids if I get to heaven? I really really struggle to see the peace in that :). Going on faith here.
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