I am rarely cliche but when my son was born!

Putting aside the Mom Joy, the boy refused to be born! I gained 70 lbs, and at a whopping 170 it was like I’d doubled! I knew the day and hour he was created, but doctors don’t listen and he was born 3 1/2 weeks late! He’d lost 2 lbs by the time they agreed to induce him. He was then in the 90th percentile of height but only 30th for weight. He’s recovered, now at 6’4″ and 280. Also a dad 6 months ago as some of you know!

BUT the worst part was that they induced me at 7 am and he wouldn’t get out. Out of nowhere, around 4:45pm he changed his mind with no medical staff to be found except my mom, an RN herself. She swung into action and opened the door, grabbed the first white coat to pass and told him “We’re having a baby in here!”

He checked and started wheeling me down the hallway right away. My son was partly born cruising down the hall towards the delivery room. By a man I’d never seen! We both wound up on oxygen and they took him away.

Three times I got up, walked down the lonnnnng hallway and said I wanted to see him. The first two, they claimed he was getting a bath. The third they tried it again and I said you’re going to wash him to death get him now! My legs by then looked like one thigh all the way to my feet. They got him, and I wheeled him down the hall in a rolling baby bed, plopped him on my stomach supported by side pillows and we slept that way all night together. It was both of our first nights in a hospital!

Later, I found out he’d been on oxygen, under heat lamps and other things medically had been done. It was all I could do to not let The Fitch out to ream them all new arseholes. What if he’d died and I never knew? Never saw him but that 2 minutes? I still get angry at their audacity.

On a happy note, here’s his baby today! 6 1/2 mos.