Happy Birthday to Alex!

3 years ago today, my sweet little angel, first-child was born. Ahh... there's just something extra special about that first child that makes a person a "mommy." I couldn't have asked for a better kid.

I still remember, very clearly, the day he was born. I was so blessed to have such a short labor. At about 10:30 p.m., I felt the contractions (every 2 minutes... whatever happened to "come to the hospital when they're 5 minutes apart for an hour" ?) and decided we better head on over to the hospital. I was far enough along to be admitted, and was lucky enough to get an epidural right away. (wonderful, blessed medicine! yeah!) When Michelle Matthews' dad, yep, Morris! walked into the room, I was soooo glad to see him!

Little Alex was born by about 5 a.m. The beginning was a little rough. I've never written down the events, so I thought I better get on that while the memories are somewhat fresh. As Alex was coming out, he had the cord wrapped around his neck - not a big deal, happens all the time, so they tell me. As the doctor lifted it up and over his head, it burst - big deal, rarely happens at all! Blood started spraying everywhere... Mark got covered, doc got covered, nurse got covered, you get the idea. And had it been my blood, then no biggie, I could have handled that. But it was my baby boy's blood. And it was comin' out quick. Not good.

All I remember is that they got the rest of that baby out as quick as lightning, threw him on my stomach and he started crying. I was thinking, "He's crying. This is good, right? Everyone says that once they're crying, all is well, right?" But in my semi-conscious reality, I could hear the doctor and nurse yelling, "Pinch the cord!" "Grab me something to clamp this!" "Quick, get me a clamp!" and finally from Dr. Larkin, beads of nervous sweat on his brow, "NOW!!!"

At that point, I'm thinking... Okay, maybe I should be a little nervous. And... not that I wasn't a tad bit anxious, but either I was being comforted to know that all was going to be well, or those epidurals totally rock. Whatever the case, they whisked my precious little, very pale, baby off to the nursery, and that was the last I saw of him for a few hours.

Mark went off to be with the wee one while the doctor repaired (for over an hour) the damage he'd done in his speedy haste to save the little one's blood supply. I very, very distinctly remember Mark coming back to check on me and seeing him just break down in tears. The one comment that stands out in my mind was, "They just keep picking, prodding, and poking him. They can't find a vein (common with major blood loss), and they've poked him over 50 times. It's so awful! He's just screaming." :( Sooo sad.

Of course, true to the spitfire spirit that we now know as Alex, that little one fought hard, and knowing that his mother would be a basket-case if he didn't fight quick, he recovered so well. By mid-day, his blood pressure was close to normal.

I treasure the first chance I had to hold him after this whole ordeal. They wheeled me into the nursery, and I could hear the sweetest, saddest cry. I immediately recognized it (don't ask me how, 'cause now they all sound the same to me!), and was handed my baby. The minute I took him in my arms, he was silent. He had wide-open, goopy eyes (from those darn drops) and he just looked at me like, "Ahhh... there's my mommy." He had me hooked, right then and there.

And he's got me hooked still! What an absolutely precious, beautiful, fun, sweet, spunky, intelligent, perfect little boy. I love you bud! Happy 3rd Birthday! Now do as I say, and stop growing up so fast!

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