happy birthday to Tristan
Okay, so it's one day before his birthday, but I'm afraid tomorrow we'll be too busy celebrating for me to devote the time and effort to this that I want to. Recently I have posted lengthy blogs about my other two sons and I don't want Tristan to feel left out. I have just been waiting for the blog to roughly coincide with his birthday, which is tomorrow.
Tristan's birthday is on a Friday this year, which is the same day of the week he was born. For some reason, whenever my kids' birthdays fall on the day of the week on which they were born, it makes me that much more sentimental and puts me in "reliving the day" mode. So last night, the boys and I were outside talking and he wanted me to tell him the tale of his birth. It goes a little something like this:
My due date was June 18th and I stopped working on June 13th, so by the time June 25th rolled around, I was huge, miserable, swollen and did I mention miserable? I went for my regular check-up and Dr. Gentry ordered a non-stress test. Afterwards I clearly and distinctly remember him saying, "Well, as they say, it's time to poop or get off the pot," which doesn't seem like a very doctorly thing to say, but obviously it made a lasting impression on me! He sent me home and told me to be at the hospital at 4:00 the next day, a Thursday.
Wade and I arrived at the hospital in our usual punctual style. I remember how strange it was leaving the house for the hospital, thinking about how when we returned, we would have a baby and our house and lives would never be the same again. At the hospital, they got me all checked into infamous Room 311, an IV shunt started, and they started me on cervical gels to get things started.
I had annoying but extremely irregular contractions for the whole 12 hours I had the gels on. I couldn't sleep, despite the nurses administering two sleeping pills. Actually I think when I finally drifted off, they told me it was time to wake up and start the pitocin, evil stuff that it is. However, when the nurse finally went to start the IV, the shunt, which had been annoying the heck out of me all night, did not work properly. So they had to take it out and start another one. I was not pleased at the delay. I was ready to meet my Tristan MaKai!
The pitocin did not get underway until after 7 am, and it was supposed to get started at 5:30. Not only did it not get underway, but it didn't really start *doing* anything until after 9 am. At 11'ish, Dr. Gentry checked me and I was barely responding despite having established a regular pattern of intense contractions, but he decided to break my water and hope for the best. In a way I was relieved because I knew that meant I wasn't going to get sent home baby-less.
The nurses cranked the pitocin up and up and up and by early afternoon, I was pretty darn miserable. By 5'ish, I had been having contractions off and on, but mostly on, for 24 hours and I finally succumbed to an epidural so I could get some rest. I was dilated to about 5 cm at this point...so all that work to get from 2 (where I'd started on Thursday) to 5 cm. That epidural was pure bliss (in comparison to the crappy one I had with Jordan). At 10 pm, I was pronounced fully dilated and Tristan was born at 11:23 PM, almost 32 hours after we'd arrived at the hospital. He was a healthy 8 lbs, 8 oz and 20.5 inches long.
It's hard to believe my T-Bear is now eleven or that I've been a mother for eleven years! I keep waiting for someone to say that I look too young to have an eleven-year-old but I just don't hear that much (thanks to all the teenage girls popping out kids I guess). He is such a joy and has been from day one. He is bright, inquisitive, energetic, and has a million expressions. My mom has always says it's like his face is made of rubber. He is so animated and is constantly amusing us with his many talents. I have so many stories of cute things he has said and done that I would need a million blog entries to recount them all.
But my favorite of Tristan's qualities is his kind heart. Just when I think he is your typical goofy boy, he will do something so tender and sweet, that tears just well up in my eyes. Whether it's helping his little brothers patiently or befriending the new kid at school, he has shown great compassion and leadership potential for someone his age. Just last night I was riding my exercise bike and I was 27 minutes into my ride. I started feeling weak and dizzy and mentioned it to him. He said, "You should stop riding, Mom, you don't want to overdo it." Then he chastised me for continuing to ride to the 30 minute point even though I was shaking and becoming pale (I usually ride 45 minutes and was tempted to get the whole ride in, my dad's genes coming out! LOL). Tristan was very concerned about me, asking me if I was okay and if he could get me anything, and did I still want the fan on, etc. That's my boy :)
I am so proud of Tristan and love him so much. He is still super affectionate and lets me hug and kiss on him. I just love looking into those big green eyes and hearing him say he loves me. I know he might not always want to say that but for now I'm going to store all that affection up to get me through those teenage years when I might not get any from him.
Tristan's birthday is on a Friday this year, which is the same day of the week he was born. For some reason, whenever my kids' birthdays fall on the day of the week on which they were born, it makes me that much more sentimental and puts me in "reliving the day" mode. So last night, the boys and I were outside talking and he wanted me to tell him the tale of his birth. It goes a little something like this:
My due date was June 18th and I stopped working on June 13th, so by the time June 25th rolled around, I was huge, miserable, swollen and did I mention miserable? I went for my regular check-up and Dr. Gentry ordered a non-stress test. Afterwards I clearly and distinctly remember him saying, "Well, as they say, it's time to poop or get off the pot," which doesn't seem like a very doctorly thing to say, but obviously it made a lasting impression on me! He sent me home and told me to be at the hospital at 4:00 the next day, a Thursday.
Wade and I arrived at the hospital in our usual punctual style. I remember how strange it was leaving the house for the hospital, thinking about how when we returned, we would have a baby and our house and lives would never be the same again. At the hospital, they got me all checked into infamous Room 311, an IV shunt started, and they started me on cervical gels to get things started.
I had annoying but extremely irregular contractions for the whole 12 hours I had the gels on. I couldn't sleep, despite the nurses administering two sleeping pills. Actually I think when I finally drifted off, they told me it was time to wake up and start the pitocin, evil stuff that it is. However, when the nurse finally went to start the IV, the shunt, which had been annoying the heck out of me all night, did not work properly. So they had to take it out and start another one. I was not pleased at the delay. I was ready to meet my Tristan MaKai!
The pitocin did not get underway until after 7 am, and it was supposed to get started at 5:30. Not only did it not get underway, but it didn't really start *doing* anything until after 9 am. At 11'ish, Dr. Gentry checked me and I was barely responding despite having established a regular pattern of intense contractions, but he decided to break my water and hope for the best. In a way I was relieved because I knew that meant I wasn't going to get sent home baby-less.
The nurses cranked the pitocin up and up and up and by early afternoon, I was pretty darn miserable. By 5'ish, I had been having contractions off and on, but mostly on, for 24 hours and I finally succumbed to an epidural so I could get some rest. I was dilated to about 5 cm at this point...so all that work to get from 2 (where I'd started on Thursday) to 5 cm. That epidural was pure bliss (in comparison to the crappy one I had with Jordan). At 10 pm, I was pronounced fully dilated and Tristan was born at 11:23 PM, almost 32 hours after we'd arrived at the hospital. He was a healthy 8 lbs, 8 oz and 20.5 inches long.
It's hard to believe my T-Bear is now eleven or that I've been a mother for eleven years! I keep waiting for someone to say that I look too young to have an eleven-year-old but I just don't hear that much (thanks to all the teenage girls popping out kids I guess). He is such a joy and has been from day one. He is bright, inquisitive, energetic, and has a million expressions. My mom has always says it's like his face is made of rubber. He is so animated and is constantly amusing us with his many talents. I have so many stories of cute things he has said and done that I would need a million blog entries to recount them all.
But my favorite of Tristan's qualities is his kind heart. Just when I think he is your typical goofy boy, he will do something so tender and sweet, that tears just well up in my eyes. Whether it's helping his little brothers patiently or befriending the new kid at school, he has shown great compassion and leadership potential for someone his age. Just last night I was riding my exercise bike and I was 27 minutes into my ride. I started feeling weak and dizzy and mentioned it to him. He said, "You should stop riding, Mom, you don't want to overdo it." Then he chastised me for continuing to ride to the 30 minute point even though I was shaking and becoming pale (I usually ride 45 minutes and was tempted to get the whole ride in, my dad's genes coming out! LOL). Tristan was very concerned about me, asking me if I was okay and if he could get me anything, and did I still want the fan on, etc. That's my boy :)
I am so proud of Tristan and love him so much. He is still super affectionate and lets me hug and kiss on him. I just love looking into those big green eyes and hearing him say he loves me. I know he might not always want to say that but for now I'm going to store all that affection up to get me through those teenage years when I might not get any from him.