It was a dark and stormy night.....

Picture it -- February 5th, 1972. And it really was a dark and stormy night . My mother drove me and my husband to the hospital, and as we pulled into the parking lot I changed my mind. "Nope, I don't want to. It's going to hurt, there's no other way to get this kid out, right?" My Mom shrugged and said, OK - and she turned around. We made a few laps around the hospital while Hubby about wet his pants and came unglued. Finally I relented, and they took me in. This was the Bad Old Days of childbirth - no epidurals, and of course no one in the delivery room. Certain husbands were allowed in if they had completed six months of that new Lamaze thing, AND had a note from the doctor!! Honest! Well, my 17 yr. old husband certainly was no candidate for any delivery room, and Grandmas didn't count so I was on my own. There was a lot they didn't explain back then - like EVERYTHING. Eventually they did give me what was called a "saddle-block" that made everything numb from the waist down - then they yelled at me to push. Push what? I thought they were crazy, and they finally had to clamp on forcepts and yank him out - all 9lbs, 6 oz, 23 inches of him, but while I was aghast at how tiny he was, they all flipped out at how big. Perspective is a funny thing, huh? We both survived this adventure, not much worse for wear. He had bruises on his head for a week, and I had twice daily dressing changes - unbeknownst to anyone including me, I had been scratching my right thigh the whole time, and it was a shredded, bloody mess. Oh yea - my wrists were restrained, strapped to the bed or something, and my thigh was the only thing I could touch but couldn't feel. Thank God and medicine that those bad old days are history.

That young man and I grew up together and to my delight he finally had a child of his own this year. I sent him a dozen text messages throughout the day today, giving him bits of family trivia about the magic age of 36. Like how when I was his age, he was in college. How his Grandma was 36 when he was born. When I was 36, I adopted my current cat, Cuervo. LOL -- that was when he called me back - "WHAT???" yes, the same cat Cuervo. "You've had that cat since you were MY age???" LOL!! True! Suddenly stunned silence..........then my baby boys voice - "Does this mean I'm old?"
Yes Dear.
"So if I'm middle aged, that makes you............"
DON'T EVEN GO THERE!!!!
It's an amazing, wonderful gift, these kids. Even though I had no business having a baby at that age, I never considered any alternative. He's been my joy & delight, my rock, my teacher and my student and now we're very close friends. As time goes on, what short little age gap there once was is all evened out, and now we're about the same, I think. God knew what He was doing, as always, to entrust me with an angel. The snot-nosed teenager disappeared overnight and I blossomed into Steve's Mom, and it was the BEST thing to ever happen to me!! Happy Birthday, Booper!