Happy Birthday to You

19 years ago, I don't know what the weather was like!

I had been in hospital for 6 days, awaiting the arrival of Boy, or as he was known then, "Betsy Bob".

I had been announced 8 weeks pregnant on 31st December. Even allowing for a month's error, I was 10 months pregnant.

Boy was a surprise, a brilliant, wonderful surprise.

In the October, the previous year, I had been ill, and the doctor's initial cure for my ill, was to clear my body of medication. No Pill, no blood pressure tablets, no nothing, I was wobbling on the edge of a nervous breakdown and having suffered one already, didn't want to go there again.

However, come December, I was feeling worse than ever. I went back in to see him, and he ran blood tests- he decided it was just my body coming back to normal. Then the pains started. Every night for weeks, I was waking with the worst cramps ever. I was swallowing laxatives, and reading the yellow pages, trying to find a cure for the pain. Eventually Beloved said, "go to the doctors, or I'll take you".

I toddled down, to see the Doctor in the moring, and she sent me to the Infirmary, thinking I had perhaps a twisted fallopian tube, or cyst. They took bloods and urines, and came back said, "well you haven't lost the baby". And stood back and looked at me as I blinked in surprise.

Their next statement was, "but you might be loosing it, we think it may be an eptopic pregnancy". Beloved rushed in as I was wheeled down the corridor, drip in place, and I broke the news to him, and also that he'd have to phone my mum and tell her too. Happy Days!

As soon as they scanned and that little heartbeat appeared on the screen I knew this was meant. As soon as I stepped out the hospital, I threw up and continued to throw up for the rest of my pregnancy.

As due date came and passed, they took me in, promising to start if nothing happened. Nothing did happen and they "started" me. Starting me was a night mare. It didn't work, so they "started" me again the next morning. By 6 oclock that evening, I had used my TENS machine up to its highest setting, had all the gas and air I needed to turn me in to a joke a minute machine, and been rigged up to the biggest dose of epidural known to man. Nurses were sticking needles in my chest to prove to me that I was numb.

Forcepts proved pointless, and the ventuse came out. And after much squealing on my part, so did boy. Our beautiful boy.

He was born with that smile you still see today - I remember laying in bed that first night, looking at him, looking at me, and thinking "god but you look like your dad". The first time I changed him, I ran and got a nurse -"you have to come, my baby's insides have fallen out". She ran into the room, looked at me and said "no, that would be a dirty nappy". Barring that one less than motherly response, I've been damn good at it.

Beloved and I, not only brought the amazing Boy into the world, and helped him become that wonderful lunatic who is currently winding folk up in Mount Olive USA, but also managed to do it a second time, with the gorgeous Tooli. Completely different from her brother, but scarily adopting some of his more mental traits since he left home.

So Happy Birthday Boy!! You made a wonderful difference in the world already to me and your dad - just carry on what you are doing and make people happy! We are so proud of you. It was brilliant chatting with you tonight - You are looking grand!

On a lighter note - the pretty butterfly in the picture. Is deid.

Fat Cat Ate It!

Sorry.