My c-section was scheduled for June 17th. Since MY birthday is June 20th, this meant we’d likely be getting out of the hospital as a nice “happy birthday to me” present. I was excited. It was weird as all get-out to me to “know” my baby’s birthday ahead of time, but it was also very exciting.
I went for a check-up on June 6th and everything changed. Nope– not June 17th. June 12th. Well… alrighty then! That might not seem like a huge difference, but going from having a week and a half down to only six days to prepare seemed like a big jump at the time. Still, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again– I tend to have easy, comfortable third trimesters and I really didn’t care either way. I was so, so, SO happy to have made it so far into a pregnancy that you would never hear me fuss.
Well, I might occasionally cry and fuss over the fact that I was about to have three kids and my husband had no JOB, but I never fussed about the pregnancy.
Full-term with G!
Twelve hours before I was to head to the hospital to be prepped for surgery, the phone rang.
It was the bank in Connecticut. They offered my husband the job. They wanted to know how soon he could be there. Less than a day away from having a new baby, we had a decision to make. Of course, in our minds, there really was no decision– as I said last week, “you go where the job is.” He accepted it.
That night, my mother-in-law came to sleep over so she would be there in the morning when our older two children woke up. We sat with her on the couch, talking about this and that, and then my husband broke the news, “Mom… I’ve accepted a job.” You could see only the slightest flicker of panic rush across of her face (after all, she knew he’d been interviewing all over the country), before she calmly asked, “Where at?”
He told her. And she responded with, “Well, I’m really glad you’ll be near her family. That’s good.”
[Here's where I'd like to brag on both of our parents for a moment. We (hubby and I) have lived in a lot of different states. We went far from home for college and we've been everywhere in between. Our parents have never, ever made us feel guilty for leaving. They have NEVER tried to convince us to "move back home" or moaned around about how far away we had moved. Did they miss us? Yes. Were they happy when we lived close by? Yes. But neither his nor my parents ever gave us grief for living elsewhere-- this is something for which I've always been grateful.]
By eleven PM, I was long past yawning and was tired of “being social.” I took a shower and, with giddy little butterflies in my belly, fell into bed to sleep.
We rose bright and early to head to the hospital. It was to be my baby’s birthday…
(G’s birth story is coming… finally! Be sure to come back next week!)