On December 1, 2008, just days shy of your full-term delivery date, the doctors decided this would be the day you two would be born. According to the doc, my proteins were getting high and it was time. To this day, I don’t believe it. I think both of you were fully cooked and the maternity floor was slow. I wasn’t going to argue. It was getting tight in there. I called your daddy and told him it was go time and then, against the doctor’s orders, I went home to pack because–this will probably come as to no shock to you both–I had not prepared my hospital bag. I drove with your Yia Yia, my mom, to meet your dad at the hospital. The only words he spoke to me on this day, prior to your birth, were, “are you sure you want to go through with this?” I am pretty sure he was talking about the C-section, but your birth story is better if I make it sound like he was asking me if I was reconsidering your birth in its entirety.
After about an hour in the hospital, I was wheeled to the O.R. with your dad by my side all while our entire extended family sat in the waiting room. It was as if someone made a call and said let’s make sure this family and these new parents have the most incredible birth story in all the land. Guess what? Your birth day, my birth story, PERFECTION and my BIG, GIANT, LOUD, CRAZY family settled in like they owned the joint and waited impatiently for your dad to come out and share the news. We had no idea what we were having. While the crew held down the fort outside, the delivery commenced.
William, you were born first. This was the happiest, proudest, most surreal moment of my life. The first thing I heard was the doc tell me Baby A was a boy and then I heard you clear your lungs for the first time. Music to my ears! You will forever be my first born (lol) twin and favorite son. You were born with a big head and a pot belly and even bigger lips. I will not apologize for how many times I kissed them. You entered the world weighing 6 lbs, 6 oz and a whopping 21 inches long. As quickly as you were born, you were whisked off to be checked and poked and cleaned up for our formal introduction. That didn’t happen until a little while later. In the meantime, we had another baby to deliver. I wanted one of each and made no bones about it. You know how this story ends. Your sister came, exactly two minutes later, and the docs proclaimed, “One of each! Well done, mom!” I ugly cried. Mia, you teeny, tiny little thing! The tears of joy by both your dad and me were a-flowin’. You were pint-sized and weighed in at 4 lbs 13 oz and your pediatrician described you perfectly when he said you were “small but strong”. I would like to shake that doctor’s hand because small and strong is exactly what you are.
Guess what happened next? Your dad got to go in to the waiting room and FINALLY tell both sets of your grandparents and all of your aunts and uncles that he was the proud dad of a boy and a girl! As the Knife, aka Grandpa in The Tower, would say, “The crowd went wild!” I got to hear this go down from the O.R. and then I went lights out for the “reconstruction of my midsection.” FYI, your mom is a bad ass.
About an hour or so, after I came to and was in recovery, I got to meet you both for the first time. At this point, I had not even held you yet. Our meet and greet meant one thing. I could not take my eyes off of either of you. Look what I did! You!! Both of you! Perfect in every way and probably one of the few things your dad and I nailed on the first attempt. I inspected every square inch of your fresh little newborn bodies. Twenty fingers. Check. Twenty toes. Check. Four eyes. Two noses, and two of the most gorgeous newborns I had ever seen. Ask anyone. They’ll tell ya. I could not wrap my head around the fact that only hours ago you two had inhabited my belly and now were here in the flesh. I also couldn’t believe the toes sticking out of the blanket at the foot of the bed were mine. Let’s just say the epidural worked. For me, your BIRTH day was easily the greatest moment of my life. I proceeded to watch your dad football carry you for what would be the first of many times and my heart swelled. You were surrounded by all of the people who love you most and those very people still surround you and love you to this day.
Here we are on your 8th birthday and, selfishly, I do wish we could pump the breaks just a pinch. Time is flying and part of me would appreciate a slow down as much as you wish time would speed up. I remember having those same thoughts when I was a kid. My advice to you on your 8th birthday would be to live in the moment. Be grateful for all that you have because, as you have just read, there is lots. Stay young. Play with Legos and dolls. Pretend. Make houses out of boxes. Get dirty. Greet people with a “hello” when they pass you on the street, unless they look like a kidnapper. Say “please” and “thank you” but mostly, live your life like an 8-year-old should. As your mom and life coach, I am happy to report, thus far, you both have grown into really funny, mostly kind (not always to each other), hard working, free-spirited humans. Stay focused on what is important and be leaders, NOT FOLLOWERS! Don’t rush, take deep breaths and always kiss your momma. You too, William! I love you both. I couldn’t imagine life without either of you and I am so lucky to be your mom.
Happy Birthday Babies!
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