Except he isn’t my baby anymore. He’s completely a little man who loves sports–unbelievably so much that I suspect he might take Gary Radnich’s job from KRON someday. This is a child that will wake up in the morning and turn on the television and when I come into the family room it isn’t Cartoon Network I see on the screen but ESPN and he’s intently watching to get the baseball scores. Listening to him talk stats with his father–OMG my child knows more about baseball than I do and it’s scary. So today is your birthday. You are seven years old and I secretly wish you never grow up because I don’t want to lose that little boy. In a way you have already changed from being a mommy’s boy to a daddy’s boy which can be fun when I want to do something and your dad takes your brother and you to a baseball game.
So seven years ago on the night of the 28th I went to Max’s Diner in San Ramon with a friend to have dinner. I had my favorite item which is a stuffed baked potato with a caesar salad. Ironically last night we took the whole family including your grandparents to Max’s Diner for dinner and I had the same meal. It didn’t even occur to me I was repeating history seven years later. On the morning of the 29th of September, 2001, I was getting out of bed at 5:30 am to relieve my poor bladder that you so kindly sat on at the end and stood up. Something was happening. My water broke. Not sure it was my water, I called my friend Barbara who I had dinner with the night before and asked her what I should do. She suggested taking a shower and seeing if it continued after. I did so and cleaned up and proceeded to saturate more clothing. Yeah, it was my water breaking not bad bladder control as I suspected. So, off to the hospital we went with your 6 year old brother who we woke up and dragged out of bed.
It took all day, but at 10:51 pm you finally made your appearance. You were a VBAC and I was happy to not have to have another C-section. There were a few moments when your heart rate dropped so low that about 20 people joined us in the delivery room waiting for what you were going to do. There was a threat of another C-section and I didn’t realize at the time that if you were going to be a C-section that you would be ripped out of me in 30 seconds versus the lengthy one I went through with your older brother. When one is pushing and concentrating on delivering a baby, one doesn’t understand why there are so many people in the room watching me. But, thanks to a vacuum your big Biasotti head finally came down and you were pulled out successfully. You were angry. You were screaming. I guess having fetal monitors attached to your head as well as a vacuum pulling out your head is enough to send anyone into a screaming frenzy. I remember the nurses bringing me a sandwich immediately to scarf down and I didn’t even care that it had mayonnaise on it. (Those of you that know me know how I feel about mayonnaise). You cried and cried. You wouldn’t sleep that night until I picked you up and held you in my arms all night. That is how we slept–you in my arms. It was the beginning of the next three years of you sleeping next to me and no other place. I couldn’t move anyway as the nurse slapped a huge bag of ice on my crotch which I didn’t understand why she did that until the next day when the epidural completely wore off. Anyhow…I love you. Happy birthday my darling. I wish I had decent newborn photos of you but I don’t so I thought I would post a few of my favorites. Your reddish brown hair that you were born with was so full and never fell out. Here is my favorite picture of you doing your A Flock of Seagulls hairstyle.
Love the Fred Flinstone toes. Sigh.
The next image was your One year old portrait. By this time you had about 2 haircuts and went blond. Who knew I had tow head recessive genes lingering in my body.
And here is my boy today. Loving his sports.
And my favorite one I just took a week ago