Four-ness

After months of asking, "When is my birthday?" and weeks of, "What number is today?" Dallin finally turned four years old on September 24.

I remember the day he was born. Ten days before his due date I started having contractions that didn't hurt, but were inconvenient. And noticeable. Maybe regular, too, but since the other children had been late, I could not believe that I might be in actual labor. So I went and had a pedicure, which was my one major goal to be completed before giving birth. (After all, if nothing else looked good, at least I could see pretty toes. This pre-baby tradition continued with Nate, too.)

Pedicure done, home for dinner, bedtime for kids, and then because I was "tired and sore", I went to bed around 9pm. By 2am I could no longer sleep, so I rested on the couch and flipped channels. Still in denial. By 4am, I thought maybe I might be in labor. I woke Matt at 4:15, he called the neighbor who had offered middle-of-the-night services, and I could not stand long enough to brush my teeth.

We rushed to the nearby hospital, took the elevator to labor and delivery (should we put the maternity ward on the main floor? Nah, those ladies can make it a little farther), and assured the receptionist that I was not the 5am c-section, but I was actually in labor. They calmly led me to a room, calmly gave instructions, and calmly said someone would check in on me soon. Obviously, I did not look upset and pained enough. After tearfully dressing--and oh, I remember how difficult that was through the fast, painful contractions--I asked Matt to please, please find someone. Someone finally came, that someone finally checked my progress, and then asked if I remembered my measurements from my last doctor's appointment. "A one, I think?" I answered. "Oh, honey, you're not a one anymore," she said--and in my incoherent state I thought she was going to say I was less than a "one" and send me home--"Oh, honey, you're a nine and this baby is coming right now."

I had to admire how fast those nurses switch into business mode when business, so to speak, is immediately at hand. No doubt, I have provided more detail than anyone wanted to know, so suffice it to say: No time for epidural? I can't do that! Panic, faster contractions, panic and terror. One very helpful, also very pregnant nurse who coaches me to breathe and hum. Miracle of an available anesthesiologist who can give a spinal block. Again, seems unnecessarily slow. Relaxing and taking control of my brain again, as medication takes effect in seconds. Oh, there's a doctor, the one in the practice whom I hadn't yet met. Apparently he lived closest. And then, quick as that, came Dallin at 5:15am.

After it was over, and I had this beautiful, black-haired baby boy in my arms, Matt and I reflected on how surreal, yet wonderful, this experience had been. We had been accustomed to waiting for several hours through hospital labor, with epidurals, monitors, and even movies. We had previously seen all the "necessary" staff come through our room before, during, and after labor and delivery. We had packed a bag before. But, Dallin's birth turned out to be as unique, unexpected, and precious to us as his own little personality.

And now, four years are gone. How fast they fly and how torn I am between wanting Dallin to grow and learn and progress, and wanting him to stay a cuddly, little guy full of sweetness and funniness. He is so glad to have finally reached this anticipated day, that when I asked him today what made him happy about his birthday, he said in his usual accent: "All my four-ness."