Happy Birthday to Super Girl

Eleven years ago. I can't believe my daughter will be 11 tomorrow! I was HUGE when I was pregnant with her. I was borderline on pre-eclampsia and my head and neck were big like a tree trunk. My ankles were lost to the logs that my legs had become. I had zebra belly too -- there were stretch marks on my stretch marks! I had a bad case of the uglies and I didn't care.... there was a wonderful baby inside of me kicking her way out. I remember how she'd become more active when I drove down highways full of potholes that needed repair. Super Girl liked the bumpy ride.

She also liked music -- a lot! It was during that pregnancy that I picked up a big band CD. I'd listen to it and she would dance about my belly. I never would have believed it if I wasn't experiencing it. She liked to rock out as well. I tend to listen to the music loud when I'm alone in the car. She showed me she loved that by being active whenever the music played.

Super Girl was born on a Monday. On Sunday night the weather was unseasonably warm and Hubby and I went for a long walk. We visited with a friend of my Mom's so I could stop and pee. I remember sitting on her couch and having great conversation. My first MONSTER contraction came when I stood up to leave. I doubled over, lost my breath, and put my butt back down on that couch. My Mom's friend hugged me and wished me a good night -- it was going to be a long one!

It was a long night. Contractions came every 7 minutes for most of the night. I'd sometime hit the magic 5 minutes interval, but then it would stretch to 9. I knew they'd send me home from the hospital if I was not at the magic 5 minute mark. My doctor was part of an all women practice. I had thought that was a good thing -- it really wasn't for me. These chicks didn't really notice the signs of pre-eclampsia blood pressure issues. I'm pretty sure they would have been happy to have me birth the baby in a field while picking cotton.

I was told to "work and do things normally, stop when you feel tired." So, I overdid it all the time not realizing that I was tired. I would work all day and then be a shambles every night (I had sciatica so I would have to crawl up the driveway after long drives.... hubby got really used to seeing me crawl vs. walk in the last trimester -- boy was I dumb!) In hindsight I was quite disappointed in my prenatal care and delivery -- I cracked a bone during delivery and missed out on my epidural. Recovery took weeks but was well worth it.

I remember driving to the hospital and wondering if I was having a boy or girl. I got there and my blood pressure was through the roof -- but my labor stalled. They decided to induce and broke my water. That's a whole lot of water! After that didn't work they gave me pitocin and I went into hard labor fast. I went from 5-10 in just ten minutes. The nurses didn't believe me that I wanted to push. The doctor checked me and was stunned to find it was time. There was no time for a saddle block or epidural -- they gave me Demerol (which doesn't work well in my humble opinion). My choice was Demerol or morphine -- given the choice, TAKE THE MORPHINE! I thought morphine was like heroin at the time. Several surgical situations later I'm in favor of morphine.

I was in a lot of pain, so I decided there was something really wrong and that I must be dying. You can't possibly suffer this much pain and LIVE. I remember looking up at Hubby and thinking "He's such a good man. He is going to be such a great father! Thank God, because he'll be raising this baby alone. It's okay though, he'll be a good Dad." I felt like my legs were tied to freight trains going in opposite directions. I wondered if someone wasn't shooting my with a flame thrower up the middle. The doctor said I was crowning and did I want to touch the baby's head. I'm ashamed to this day that my response was "Um no, get it OUT." Why would we stop the process for me to touch the baby's head? The baby can be touched when the baby is on the OUTSIDE of me.

They asked if I wanted to look in a mirror. NO. "Why are we having conversation?" was all I could think. I can't believe it was only three long pushing contractions before my sweet tiny wonderful baby came into this world. Less than 10 minutes of pushing -- how can ten minutes take such a long time?? She was born in a teaching hospital and I'd given the student doctors all permission to come watch the show (this was shocking to both my Mom and Hubby since I'd always been hyper modest -- what the heck? I was never going to see them again, there was a baby coming out, who'd be paying any attention to me and my parts? Who cares? Come watch the show, bring the custodian if you wish). They all visited me after. They bummed out that I'd given birth so quickly that they'd missed it.

Super Girl was born 5 pounds and 9 ounces. She was the tiniest most perfect little peanut of a baby. Her head was perfectly round. When she came out they placed her on me and wrapped her for warmth. We were all so happy -- we forgot to find out if she was a boy or girl! I don't remember who asked.

Somehow I knew all along she was a girl. To this day she is a Tom Boy, but back then I was able to dress her in pink to come home from the hospital. The Demerol made me tired, so my best memories are the ones after the nap. Hubby and I took turns holding her -- he was so proud! I still have not forgiven him for the ham sandwich he ate while I was in labor. I was starved and they fed him a ham sandwich right in front of me. He warns new dads not to do that...

Super Girl was tiny and strong. She started trying to lift her head and turn it about right away. For such a tiny soul she had so much spunk. She is still this same way. I am so proud of her. She is loving, caring, and sharing. She is rough, tumble, tough and strong. She never allowed a barrette or pony tail -- even pulling them out as a baby. She always has known who she is. I am so blessed that she is my daughter. I am grateful for the gift we were given 11 years ago.

Last year she had to write her autobiography for school. She began it with "In 1996 I was born small and proud..." How cool is that? I love that she began her story that way. I love that she views her beginning in that manner. It can take us so many years to learn to be proud again once the freshness of youth fades... Yes my dear, you were born small and proud. Your heart is big and you make me proud.

Stay the way you are baby girl... do not let this world take away any bit of the wonderful inside you. You are amazing. You were to me then, you are to me now. Oh how much I love you! Ah, the wonder of it all -- the moment I saw you I loved you even more than I could ever have imagined. Happy Birthday!