....I was admitted to labor and delivery. The doctor hadn't liked my blood pressure at my weekly appointment and decided that at 39 weeks I was close enough to go ahead and induce.
As we walked in from the parking lot I shoved a granola bar down my throat, knowing there would be no food for me for a while. Husband was hurrying me along. He had spied another pregnant woman waddling towards the doors and was concerned that there might be only one room left and two women who needed it.
Amazingly his intuition was right. And the other gal was none to happy about being second. We, on the other hand, were quite pleased.
We got settled in our "stolen" room. Paperwork was done. Meds were administered. Family came and went.
She was born at 5:24am. The number had significance for her dad...24 is his lucky number, his birthday is 5/24. I have several pictures from the first hour of her life and in every single one of them Husband is looking at her. He simply could not take his eyes off her. For this, and for giving her to me, I loved him even more than before. I hadn't known that I could.
She was a beautiful baby. The nurses called her The Gerber Baby. I completely agreed. I still agree. I was and still often am, awestruck at the little person we had created.
Seven years ago our lives changed for the better.
Happy Birthday, Baby. Thanks for being such a great kid. We love you.
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