11:52 a.m.

seven years ago we welcomed another beautiful soul into our lives.

malia, who was only 27 months old, was no longer an only child.  she became a big sister.

seven years have come & gone.  quickly.  

our happy-go-lucky baby is now a happy-go-lucky little boy.

happy 7th birthday to aidan.

keep out!

For those of you who have children, you'll appreciate this.

I remember the birth of both of my children. Vividly. Well, I may not remember much about the pain {God bless the anesthesiologists...I was not going to go through childbirth 'au natural'}, but I do remember my labors & deliveries.

With Malia, it was long. Long & intense. I was induced {I was young, easily swayed & had an aching back}. The contractions started immediately. My contractions were having contractions. The next day - because, yes, I labored through the night & most of the next day - my water was broken. My contractions were still having contractions. Nearly 24 hours later, it was time to deliver my daughter. After almost three hours of pushing, Malia was born.

With Aidan - who came along 27 months later - my labor was short. Short & sweet. Again, I was induced. However, this time it was because Aidan was late. A week late. Besides, my poor body could not tolerate the swelling or the nearly 70 pound weight gain any longer {I gained about 60 pounds when I was pregnant with my daughter}. Not even an hour after I was admitted to the hospital, my water broke. On it's own. What an embarrassing feeling that was. I wasn't even in the hospital for 5 hours when I gave birth to Aidan. His delivery was a breeze. There was a lot of laughing. Laughing & comments about my smooth legs because, yes, I just HAD to shave them before "D day."

But, the point of this post isn't what my children's births were like. It's about who was there {my mom, sister & Adam}...and, more specifically, about Adam being there.

Malia's birth was pretty uneventful, but he's lucky he made it out of the hospital alive after I had our son. He nearly missed the delivery because he was in the drive-thru at Arby's. The man ate curly french fries while I was pushing out our son. Seriously. Since when does laboring & delivering a baby call for hors d'oeuvres?! Besides, I had not eaten since the night before and I was ready to KILL for some freakin' curly fries.

I guess you could say that I was more concerned about trivial bullshit {i.e., those God forsaken curly fries!} than I was about my husband being in the delivery room. I mean, being naked from the waist down & spread eagle for all to see was the least of my worries. I just wanted those damn french fries. For me, childbirth made any sort of modesty {and rationality} fly right out the window. I was not a woman who was embarrassed by the process of childbirth. I didn't care if I let out the longest fart of my life while pushing my child out. Oh, and did I blush when the nurse said to 'bear down like you're having a bowel movement?' Nope. I just pretended I was on a big toilet trying to take the dump of my life.

I suppose I'm not the norm when it comes to birthing babies.

Some women are actually quite apprehensive about having their spouse or significant other in the delivery room with them. And, it's not all about the nerves either. It's been suggested that deliveries may be easier & faster if said male was NOT a part of the delivery room crowd. Hmm...had Adam not been there - with those effin' curly fries - maybe, just maybe....nah.

My friend, Jenny, wrote a fun piece about men & the delivery room. It's hilarious. I urge you all to read it...even if you don't have kids. Let me know what you think. Even better...let Jenny know what you think.

Seriously...READ IT.



For those of you who don't click on links or haven't taken my three hints, the website is this:
http://www.truuconfessions.com/blogs/653