4 Years and the Things I've Learned:

 

Four years ago this day, I got up in the wee hours of the morning

to wee

for the 5th time,

and as I stepped onto the cold floor,

my water broke.

I informed my sleeping husband,

who groggily answered in a disheartened-to-be-awakened-from-such-sweet-sleep tone,

"Are you serious?  What does that mean?"

"Well, now,"

I responded,

"I do believe that usually means there will be a baby in the house soon.  But let me go call the Doctor and see what she recommends."

Of course, the Doctor recommended that we get along into the hospital,

so I made the call to my mom to come watch our daughter,

and then woke my husband for the second time

who seemed to remember my first LONG labor a little too well

and told me to wake him when my mom got here.

As I walked around making sure all the bags were ready for Mr. Sleepyhead to carry down for me,

I felt slight contractions,

nothing to be concerned about.

We headed out once my mom arrived

and then I sat in the truck out in the driveway as my Farmer stopped at the barn to feed the cows a very early breakfast.

I watched him through the barn door as he dragged the hose to the trough and then carried the hay to the feeders.

Do all husbands care for their animals so well when their wives are in labor?

I had to smile, despite the slight contractions I was feeling.

Well, he's helped with birthing calves,

if he wants to make me wait,

he may deliver his child, too;

but

no such happenings.

He always wins.

Fast-forward:

slow labor, pitocin, an epideral  =  me;

breakfast, television news, a few errands, lunch, and a few phone calls =  my Farmer,

and we were getting ready to see the baby.

Now back up a few years,

well,

about 5 years or so,

and I'm living a frustrated life of trying,

praying,

fasting for a baby,

and a lot of reading.

I knew the "infertility" section at the library

(it has my footprints worn in the carpet there).

I was drinking filtered water,

taking herbs and vitamins,

and padding the walls of my brain with all kinds of useful information on

how to get a baby into my empty arms.

Several pieces of information stood out to me,

relating to my body environment and my husband's that made me think that having a boy would probably not be in our future.

Something to do with acidity and temperature, but I'll leave it at that.

Just suffice it to say that between what I'd read

and the incredible similarities between my pregnancy with Violet and this baby,

I was sure as sure that we were having another girl;

definitely more sure than I was that Violet was a boy.

My husband's dreams and obvious desire for a little farmer would probably never be realized.

And yet,

back in the reality of the hospital room after another long labor and

to my utter amazement,

I heard the Doctor say,

"Congratulations, it looks like you've got yourselves a baby boy."

I couldn't believe it.

My husband looked like he was as shocked as I was,

and then the tears flooded my eyes,

as they have after the births of each of my children,

but this time because of a little extra joy on his account.

And then,

then

then I held him

and my heart changed forever.

He's Violet's little buddy.

 He's Daddy's little farmer

 and pal.

 And he has forever changed some things for me:

the excitement of little things like
worms,
and caterpillars,
and crickets,

 and spiders,






 and snakes
(I prefer these fake ones, but wonder if it's a matter of time),






frogs,





 
fish,




and trains.


A son gives new meaning to phrases
like:


"Ut-oh."





"Sit down."





"Guy time."




"My clothes are muddy."
"My boots are wet."

 "I'm hungry."




And
"Sleeping soundly,"
dirt and all.
 



 There's one more thing having a son has done to me.






It's made me appreciate, understand, and love this woman better:

 the mother of my husband.



Not too long ago, she held a little baby boy in her arms.
She fed him,
rocked him,
changed him,
kissed his sore knees,

and did some things that just seem to hard
for me to imagine having to do with my little man:

she watched him grow up
to become a man
become independent
and go off to war
twice.

She watched him marry me
and then have his own children
buy a farm
and work
hard.

I now understand how a love for a little man
just grows with that man.


And I'm thankful.

Happy 4th Birthday,
Leevs!
Stop growing up so fast now,
you hear?