One year ago Doug was camping at Father's and Son's.
One year ago I was cleaning my carpets late into the night.
One year ago I knew I had 14 more days to clean, dust, and wash.
One year ago I was patiently waiting 7 more days for my mom to arrive to help clean, dust and wash.
And THEN after lounging around for several days and taking walks together around the neighborhood, she would deliver my baby.
At home.
In my bedroom.
Peaceful music would be playing.
Doug would be coaching me quietly through each stage.
I would get strength from my mom's eyes when I thought I just couldn't do it anymore.
Kim would be quietly capturing the sweet memories for his scrapbook.
And before we knew it, we would be snuggling him in our bed together without interruption.
But one year ago, our sweet Oliver came whether it was time or not.
Whether I had taken an end of pregnancy belly picture or not.
Whether my midwife Mother was in town or not.
Whether Doug had unloaded the camping gear from the car or not.
Whether I had a hospital bag packed or not.
Whether I had taken off my undies or not.
And whether we made it to the hospital or not.
As silly as this sounds, I have mourned his birth for what it could have been. Sure it will be a great story for him to tell. But it was not the story that I wanted. At first I tired to be stoic about it. Yes! I delivered my baby in the car- on the freeway! With my husband driving like a crazy man and yelling at my over and over to "Buckle Up!" and "Stop Pushing!" But then my mom gave me permission to be sad. And I was. And amazingly a year later I still am a little. So to cheer myself up, we took a few pictures of Oliver Ben driving THE CAR on his 1 year birthday. We are so grateful for our healthy baby. And I know in the end that is all that matters.
...but so help me. If there is a baby #4...SHE had better come how, where, and when I tell her too! :)
