You Say It's Your Birthday

It's not my birthday too, but it has been my nephew's, my husband's, my friend's,my stepsister, my stepmother, my niece and today is my son's. I am surrounded my Taraus and Geminis. By the end of May the sight of birthday cake makes us want to vomit. This morning before school my son blew out a candle on his waffles and opened presents. I still can't believe he's 8. Like most mothers I think of the day he was born on his birthday. I do spare him the actual "I suffered and suffered and suffered to bring you into this world" saga. For me his birth story is one that brings feelings of anger that have only lessened with time. I hold grudges though and if I ever see the no show doctor or the Mid-wife from hell that delivered my son I may still run them over with my car. I went into labor the evening before. I knew that this was the real deal because our dog sat on the bed panting furiously and hovering over me. Around 10 o'clock my water broke. I was so glad because I knew the hospital would have to admit me. Unfortunately, my excruciating contractions were not productive and pitocin (the devil's drug)was needed. I insisted on getting an epidural, morphine, heroin, anything else they wanted to give me was cool with me. I don't do pain well. Whatever epidural cocktail they gave me knocked me out for hours. Finally, I woke up in the morning to pain. Wait, wait I don't do pain. I panicked and had my husband tell the nurse that my epidural had worn off. She came in checked me and said it would be time to push soon. EPIDURAL WORN OFF!! I reminded her. She told me that was not possible and left the room. I'm trying not to freak out. Roy see's the crazed look in my eyes and tries not to panic or flee. He is afraid of me with good reason since I bit (yes bit)him when I was in labor with our first son. He attempts to find someone who will come sedate or medicate his lunatic wife, but finds no one. The nurse finally comes back , checks me again and says OK you're ready. "What about another epidural" I try not to scream. "Oh, you're fine, you're just feeling the urge to push. Besides, it's too late for another epidural now." I'm seriously pissed and in major pain, but try and tell myself that I can get through this. A flutter of activity enters my room. I hear things like "I can't find the doctor!" "He decided to do a C-section early" "Where's another doctor" "There aren't any other doctors available." Nurses run frantically in and out of my room. Roy looks green. He looks like "I'm going to yak if I have to deliver this baby and then I'm going to kick some doctor ass." The contractions are so strong that I don't care if the janitor delivers this baby. Just get him out of me!!!! Enter Cruella de Midwife. Cruella comes in orders everyone around. I am beside myself with pain. Tears are running down my face and I'm sobbing hysterically. The midwife tells me that if I don't stop crying she's going to leave. As a special kind of torture not only does Cruella mock my pain, by telling me that my epidural has not worn off but, adds to it by pinching me and asking me what she had just done. "You pinched me, get your hands off of me" I screamed. She tosses a "oh I guess her epidural really did wear off" look to her minions. Somehow, my sweet boy is delivered. He was perfectly normal and healthy except for one thing. His right foot was bent back to the side and up so that almost touched his leg and it was an ugly blackish-blue color. The weird thing is Roy and I didn't notice. When the pediatrician told us not to worry about his foot that we would just have to exercise it back into place we nodded OK, great, but thought "what the hell is wrong with his foot?" Our family worried and grilled the pediatrician. They feared the doctor was softening the blow. Maybe my mind wouldn't let me go there, but it never once occurred to me that his foot wouldn't be fine. We (mostly Roy because I was afraid I'd break his foot), twisted JoJo's foot around daily as instructed. Within a few weeks his foot straightened out. He's never had a problem with his foot since. He has grown into a wild wonderful daredevil whom I can't imagine life without.