Gage is 9 today. He is my silly, over-the-top, wild boy. He’s also thoughtful, kind, and loving. He’s loud and argumentative. He’s cuddly and loving. I can’t believe he’s 9 years old but that’s the truth.
9 years ago this morning, I was in the hospital as we tried to induce labor. I had spent the night with strong contractions, listening to several woman deliver their babies in nearby rooms. My water broke but labor was still not serious. The doctor came to talk to me and they said that with my water broken, with my history with Ruth (40 hours of labor and still needing a c-section) that they’d let me labor until late afternoon but then they would need to do a c-section if he wasn’t born. Greg and I talked about it and decided that there was no way. Given my history, we just didn’t think it could happen in that timeframe. So, we opted for a c-section. By 10:24, he was born. By 11:00 or so, I was holding him in the recovery room, happy as a clam, with family there with me, nursing him. A big difference from the 40 hour ordeal. Life with Gage has always been good. He annoys the heck out of me at times but he is a joy. A 9 year old joy.
Happy Birthday, Buddy!