Well, hello, 2012. I hope you are kind to me and my daughters. My resolution this year was not to make one. I never follow through even with good intentions. I've been pondering what Haven's resolutions might be--if she has any. I am sure one of them has to do with track. She is a pole-vaulter and is pretty dang good at it. I bet her resolution is to make it over 11 feet. She already has 10 feet in the bag. She will do it, too, because she is determined, strong, and much better at following her dreams than I am.
I can clearly remember every new year celebration of my time in high school, but cannot even begin to think of what I might have said my resolutions were. They may have been something like this:
"I promise not to give my Mom a hard time about anything."
"I vow to be nice to my boyfriend and sisters."
"I am going to keep my room clean and organized."
I probably never did any of those things.
Haven began this year very sick. She came down with a nasty case of strep throat that I hope she does not share with the rest of the family. I found her the other day helpless, weak, and laying on the shower floor. My mother-powered strength kicked in and I was able to help her up and get her back into bed. It was then that I realized that no matter how old she is, she still needs and wants me to be her mother--even if it only comes out when she is sick.
Last night she was finally able to join us at the dinner table for supper. Her color was awful and she was still as weak as a newly hatched bird, but she showed signs of life coming back into her. She asked her four year old sister if she was happy to be back in school after the long holiday break. I bet Haven would like to be back in school with all of her friends. She barely ate as it was hard for her to swallow.
Her little sister laughed hysterically when I said, "Poor Baby." I questioned her laugh. I told her that Haven was still my baby; she was my first baby. Revy said that she knew that Haven came out of my tummy first. Haven told her what she remembered about the day Revy was born. We all enjoyed reminiscing about their births.
I am not the type of woman who finds being pregnant a joyous occasion. My pregnancies are plagued with months of bed rest and hemorrhoids the size of large catfish. It freaks me out that my body can stretch and contort as big as it does. I don't like that a baby can kick you so hard that you pass unintentional gas in front of your neighbors.
None of my deliveries came without incident either. Haven was 11 days overdue and I was not pleased about her still residing within me. When I finally went into labor with her, I literally threatened to choke my father out and told my mother not to even think about fixing her hair. I screamed at them to get in the car and not to stop at any red lights. When we arrived at the hospital, I told the nurse that my name was, "Leslie Epidural Williams," and I wanted to know when I could get one. 30 hours and a 4th degree tear later, my first daughter was born, blue, with an umbilical cord wrapped tightly around her neck. The doctor worked to remove the cord and assisted her with her first breath of life.
My second daughter was a scheduled C-section. Scheduled. You would think by the word "scheduled," everyone including my ex-husband would be prepared. Nope. Thank goodness my mother had previously flown to Hawaii, where we were stationed, for the delivery. She really saved the day and I was grateful she was there. My husband broke his flip flop as we were about to go into the delivery room. No-one wears shoes in Hawaii if they don't have to, and flip flops are acceptable foot wear for a delivery room. I think that's gross, but whatever. His shoe broke and was not going to be allowed to attend the delivery. My mother, who had no clue where in the world she was, raced home and back to the hospital with a new pair of flip flops so that my husband could see his first child being born. My C-section was preformed without complication and I was equally pleased with the birth of my second daughter.
My third delivery can not be classified as typical. Anything that could go wrong, did. At barely 37 weeks my water broke. My husband and I were taken immediately back to the operating room and I was preped for my second C-section. I was given a spinal block and the surgery began. The doctors were shocked when I told them to get their hands out of me. I saw the surgeon and anesthesiologist exchange looks. I was administered more medication and they waited for it to take effect. Once again, they began to remove my third daughter from me. Once again, I told them that I could feel it. Other looks were exchanged and my husband was escorted out of the room. We both missed the birth of my third child. Later, I was told that my baby had issues breathing and had to be resuscitated.
None of that was fun. However, now that they are all here, I find that I have enjoyed every second of every minute that they have been on this Earth. I realized that from the minute that each of my children entered this world, I made the only resolution that I will ever keep: I vow to never leave you, I promise to always love you, I thank God every day that you are here, and I will always, ALWAYS do what I can for you.
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