Today, 15 years ago, I was at the hospital getting checked out. Hugely pregnant I had turned to the doctor only days before and commented,
"I'm 10 days late and we are SO NOT spending Christmas in the hospital, right?"
She agreed and I was induced. At at this time, 15 years ago, the first bit of induction stuff wasn't working so I went home, jumped up and down, walked around the block, rubbed my gigantic belly, and pretty much begged my child to GET OUT OF MY UTERUS ALREADY.
As I type, he's now a gangly 15 year old, lounging in bed asleep, and probably will lazily rise around noon. The plans for today are for fun; a bit of Christmas shopping, a Guinness chocolate cake, delicious dinner, and lots of time together. I plan to take lots of pictures to share with all of you once we get going.
First, he just needs to wake up.
Some things never change, do they?