It's birthday time for us! Eastin's 10th was yesterday -- Leslie's 14th is today. People always ask me if we planned that. How do you plan the days your children are born? I guess if you do C-sections, maybe, but generally babies come when they've made up their minds to make an appearance.
Both of mine were late, Leslie much more so. She came 11 days after her due date. I had an appointment with my OB that day -- it was the day we had determined that if I didn't go by then, he would induce me. Dr. Benson came to my delivery room at 3 when I was ready to start pushing, and I said, "Hey -- I was already your 3 o'clock appointment today. This is the first time we've been on time for an appointment in months!" Yes, I did have enough presence of mind at that point to make a joke.
Eastin was only six days late. I started trying to sew a onesie for her the night before -- "started trying" because I am nothing even resembling a seamstress. I got about a third of the way through, went to bed, and my water broke in the morning. Worked like a charm -- like washing the car to make it rain. I think I still have that incomplete onesie in my sewing stuff in the basement somewhere.
When Dr. Colella came in to check on my labor with Eastin, he asked me how my labor with child number one went. I told him I pushed for 19 minutes. His face lit up, and he said, "Now, THAT's what I like to hear!" Eastin took 12 minutes. I'm a mighty woman. Or maybe it was the pitocin--got a love/hate relationship with that stuff.
This is what you all wanted to hear today, right? Labor and delivery stories? Sorry -- I write about what's on my mind. Frankly, those early days of the girls' lives are a bit of a blur. Tiny clothes with snaps in the crotch . . . warm spring sunshine . . . tiny, little fingers finding their eyes . . . nursing to the "I Love You" music tape from Aunt Karen . . . tiny nighties with the elastic around the bottom -- baby bags, Keith called them, I think . . . soft, snuggly baby blankets . . . cookies and cream ice cream every night . . . tiny diapers that seemed to swallow them up . . . bassinet by the bed and waking up groggy during the night to nurse . . tiny-ness, tiny-ness everywhere . . .
Happy birthday, my precious girls. You were my best gifts ever.