(My lean, mean 'Dillybean' :)In January of 1992 I found out I was pregnant for the very first time. Elated...ecstatic...I don't know...nothing would seem to cover it, despite having to get up close, and personal with the inside of the toilet for those first few weeks. No, nothing was going to dampen my enthusiasm. This was what I had wanted since I was a little girl...to be a mommy.
Things were clicking along just as they should, until we got to about eleven weeks. One afternoon came the unmistakable signs that something was terribly wrong. I left work, and raced to the doctor. After examining me, he coldly told me in all likelihood I would lose this baby. He prescribed bed rest, and to get to the hospital if the pain got to much, and they would 'take care of things'. I remember leaving his office bewildered by this man's attitude, and very, very scared. It would be twelve years before I would see this person again.
Anyway...I went home, climbed into bed...and bawled my eyes out for I don't know how long. Rubbing my tummy...wishing and hoping with all my might that this little life would somehow hold on...
It was lonely...it was me and the television most days, as Jon had to continue going to work...so I sat and ate...and ate...and ate...and rubbed my tummy...and wished. I dreamt of this little baby...pictured it growing inside me...knit booties and blankets for it...and ate lots more.
Our situation stayed the same for about two weeks...then slowly eased up. I remember waking one morning and the painful cramps were gone...I felt a new inner strength. I stayed in bed for a few more days,and hunted down a new doctor for us on the phone. He immediately sent us for an ultrasound where we learned that you were okay! No parent can ever forget that first sound of hearing their baby's heartbeat...that first sight of that little blip on the screen. I was overwhelmed, but deep down, not the least bit surprised.
After that...everything went just as it should. I took care of myself sleeping...walking...and eating...eating...and eating...I had always been a bit underweight in my life up until this point, and had worried that I wouldn't gain enough to have a healthy baby. All this worrying went to the waist side as I rapidly packed sixty pounds onto my frame...and to make a long story short, on the evening of September.13th, and two minutes to midnight(which is also the title of Jon's favorite Iron Maiden song...:) a beautiful 8 pound 14 ounce baby boy made his safe arrival into this world...
I'm not entirely sure why we beat the odds. I will tell you that when Dylan was twelve I bumped into that doctor that sent me home with all but a promise of miscarrying...He recognized me instantly, and then his eyes went to my son. 'I remember...Is this the baby?' he asked. When I told him, that yes, this was the baby, he looked totally stunned. He went on to tell me that he was so, so sure that my baby wouldn't make it...
Well, we are going to be celebrating 16 happy years with this wonderful boy this weekend. I often wonder how time has moved so quickly. Life with him now is filled with sports equipment, and guitars everywhere...loud, obnoxious music...stinky socks...and a towering boy that won't stop eating...eating...and eating...A little while ago he came to me, and thanked us for being such great parents. Ahhhh.....
So proud are we to call you our son...
Happy Birthday Dylan James...we love you.
Have a wonderful weekend everyone!
xo
