A year ago our daughter was very pregnant.
Huge. (shh... don't tell her I said that, I'll be in HUGE trouble. Really).
Adorable, but huge....
No stranger to "overdue" babies, we didn't worry.
(I'm not a worrier... you get that, right? And even when I DO Worry, I'll pretend I'm not a bit worried because worry is not of God... So I'm always staunch... strong... hale and hearty...)
On September 30, 2011, Beth looked terrible. She'd been having contractions on and off for three days, but nothing settled into real labor.
But she seriously wanted to KICK SOMEONE.
I stood far back.
I did not want to get kicked.
Anyway, she looked bad. (I mean that in the nicest possible way!)
I said, "That's good! That means this baby's coming! Go to the hospital..."
I kept big brother here, one of the crowd...
And then the phone call came that there was trouble.
I went to the hospital... Kinda fast.
Jon called me on the way.... And he said that...
Beth wasn't in labor, she was sick. And that they needed to do an emergency "C" section to deliver this baby...
I was scared... (Yes, I'm admitting that, I never fear for me but I'm a scaredy pants for my kids!)
Jon and I prayed....
My niece and Goddaughter Barb works in the crisis pregnancy unit. She accompanied Beth into surgery...
And then she brought us a baby.
A perfect, wonderful, healthy little boy (with a hint of snark) who does not look like his Minnesota father and big brother.
He looked like a "Bruiser" version of his mother.
We were happy.
Beth was fine.
Baby was fine.
We brought him home a few days later.
End of story, except:
Now it's his birthday. He's walking, climbing, saying, BWEEE!!! for "please".... (in a very demanding tone of voice, I might add)
He says, "WWWIIIIIIIIIIIJUUUUUH!" for his big brother "Elijah"...
He says "Bwoo"... for just about everything else.
I believe this is a new language.
But it's cute, right?
So here we are, with a birthday cake, just for you, Xavier.
Happy Birthday, Little One.