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Five years ago

Monday, March 10th 2003, I proceeded to stand up at the end of my sales meeting to go back upstairs to my office. Something in my huge belly creaked, popped, and groaned just enough to keep me from standing.

Most of those around me asked if they could help me up, because I was stuck in my chair. Me, being tough, brushed it off as nothing and thanked them for their offers. I got my fat self off my chair to waddle to the stair case.

Thankfully one of the men I worked with, also a father, was wise enough not to let me take the stairs back up to our floor. He escorted me to the elevator, badged his ID card, and walked me to my little cubicle.

I was to have a ride along that day with a new rep, who was sick and coughing. I'd been riding with him 3 days prior, and unfortunately was now thoroughly congested. I walked to his cubicle and told him I would meet him later as I thought I had a doctor's check up at the hospital. He asked to drive me, because like everyone else downstairs he thought maybe I was in labor....as I was days away from my due date.

Again, I thanked him...but no, I was fine and I'd drive.

30 minutes later on my doctor's table, my OB confirmed that I was in fact in labor and my water had broken. I was completely unaware of any signs of labor, and had just driven myself to the hospital. Ha...what was I thinking?

(Later I found out that I felt no contractions until the last stage of labor, affectionately termed stage 4. That's the part of labor that makes you feel like you're slammed against a wall if you don't experience the warm up stages...which I felt none of.)

My OBGYN told me to hop off the table, take the elevator to the 4th floor, and check myself in. There was an elevator right outside his office. Okay....this was it....I was having a baby. Call my husband (walk to the elevator)...call my mom....no...just get to the fourth floor...then call my husband. Then he can call my mom and start the chain of communication.

I took the elevator, and stepped off at 4. Looking up, I was completely dumbfounded what I read a sign that said, Cardiology. I then realized that my doctor wasn't too aware that he needs to clarify that maternity is on the fourth floor in a separate wing. All I could think of was:

OH CRAP! Now what do I do?
I was getting a little winded, having a child, and lost!
Shouldn't he have had someone take me?

Thankfully one of the doctor's, that worked in cardiology, also got off with me and saw my predicament. He asked the obvious...'Are you having a baby?'

(Yah, ya think?)....Yes, (smiling desperately) puff puff wind wind...I am.

He called a nurse over with a wheel chair and said, "What is your doctor thinking just telling you to go to the fourth floor? He should wheeled you up himself!" I agreed. It took us 10 minutes just to wheel me over to the other wing to get checked in.

My husband got there in record time, and doesn't even remember driving. I'm sure it was in pure panic the whole way. He probably felt as lost as I felt after getting off at cardiology. Come to think of it...maybe that's where he should have gone to get himself checked out.

The main thing I remember that day was how hard it was to breathe, from being sick. I couldn't do any breathing exercises, and they had to give me an oxygen mask. Right after getting a bed, my oxygen level got so low that it caused my son's oxygen supply to cut off.

I began to pass out, as my son's body started flipping inside me. The monitors started beeping with that alarm sound, that's never good when you're in a hospital. I remember hearing the attending nurse yelling, get a crash cart! as I looked over to my husband for help. He was so unaware as he stared down at the clip board in his lap. I think he was trying to figure out how to spell his name for the paperwork.

As my pupils drilled down and the blackness overtook, I fought it. I was determined not to pass out. Breathe slooooow Kim, I told myself. Fight this.... My son's body movement slowed down, my eye sight came back, and the alarms shut off. We made it through with out any other major issues.

From that point they had to keep shifting my body to make sure my little baby's heart rate was normal. It kept fluxuating. Apparently when he was flipping around in my tummy, when I was threatening to pass out, his chord got wrapped around his neck. We barely avoided a C-section.

My angel was born Tuesday, March 11th at a little after 7 a.m.

He was the smallest sweetest gift I'd ever received. I had a mirror positioned so I could watch his entry into the world. He had a full head of black hair that never fell out. He was born a little old man, in a baby's body.

I still remember rubbing his soft back as he lay on my chest. He had black little hairs all over it that swirled in a pattern. It was the silkiest feeling, and he smelled so heavenly. From day one, he made funny faces at me and loved to love.

Now at the new age of five, his birthday again on a Tuesday, he still makes that same face I saw on his first day of life. He still loves to be affectionate. He still has a full head of hair, that is thick and beautiful. He's still a little man in a boy's body.

Five years ago I never imagined what a gift each day would be with my son. Being a mom is the most rewarding amazing gift God ever gave me.
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