I asked my mom about my birth, and one of the first things she came up with was how hungry my dad was waiting for me to be born. Apparently, I took my time.
My dad LOVES to eat. The poor guy probably had low blood sugar and everything.
She went into labor at 10 p.m. on Wednesday night, and I was born at 3:04 p.m. on Friday afternoon. Let’s just say I was in no rush. A lot of visitors came, a lot of visitors went. She had an epidural, and she remains a big supporter of epidurals 32 years later.
Here I am…all seven pounds, thirteen ounces of me.
Remember that feeling of awe when you bring your first baby home? I remember walking into our house with our daughter and sort of wondering what to do next. My mom and I had that feeling in common because she remembers feeling amazed that they were letting her leave the hospital with me and thinking she had no idea what she was doing. I was a lucky girl when they wheeled me out with her because I’m pretty sure I have the best mom ever. Even if she didn’t think she knew what she was doing!