Two years ago today, this mama of wild, crazy, dirty boys held in her hands a precious bundle, wrapped in pink.
Her delivery was a wild and crazy one... I dropped more F-bombs that day than I'd like to admit... regardless of how warranted they might have been.
She was born on my mom's birthday. Three short hours after they broke my water and four hours after starting the pitocin, I felt the urge to push but wrote it off as a common side effect of pitocin.
But the urge to push was persistant and getting stronger. I called a nurse to come check me... 9cm... better call the doctor. She was out of the room for less then 2 minutes but already back at the nurses station when I started crowning.
Several nurses rushed into the room grabbing gloves and preparing the room for the doctor. They weren't paying attention to me. They were chanting "don't push... don't push" and not listening to me try to explain that she was already here.
"she's already here... she's already here" I said... trying to keep my composure.
They weren't listening to me.
"SHE'S ALREADY F*$%ING HERE!"
That did the trick.
The nurse lifted my gown "... Oh $H*T" and delivered the rest of my baby girl with the only two fingers she managed to get gloves on.
The nurses and the doctor apologized and I quickly became a legend at the hospital. I received the biggest room and the nurses knew to leave me alone... I clearly knew what I was doing.
We named her after her great great grandma Olivia (who is still alive and proud to have a namesake) and my mom (her middle name is Lorraine).
That bundle of pink turns 2 today and is exactly what you might expect from a little girl surrounded by a bunch of boys.
She is as girly girl as they come until she sees a pile of dirt to roll around in.
I love that little mess.