Genius or weirdo?

The X-Man, looking out the kitchen window this morning,

"A hummingbird is like a hornet and a half."

Do you ever have those moments when your children say something and you just want to pick them up, even if they are seven years old, and hug them and squeeze them? Of course you do. I'm wondering if that feeling ever ends, because I still have it with my ten year old. Occasionally, if it won't embarrass him too much, I even indulge.

Having children is the best thing I've ever done. Even at their worst, they're perfect. I wasn't always a kid person. In fact, I'm still not a kid person, but boy do I ever love mine*. Not too long before I found out I was pregnant (in spite of having taken extreme preventative measures), I announced to my husband that I wasn't sure if I ever wanted children. Funny how those statements will come back to bite you in the a**. Anyhow, all's well that ends well.

Our surprise pregnancy, although shocking at the time, wasn't all that big of a deal. A. and I are so uptight, we probably would have waited until I was 42 to have children. Nothing wrong with that, but I ended up with HELLP Syndrome, which can get worse with age, so having my first at 25 was probably better. And having a baby ten weeks early made me realize how badly I wanted one. Years later, we were on the fence about whether or not to have a third. Over a couple of drinks we decided it would be a great idea and got pregnant almost immediately. I had a miscarriage. That was sad, but it helped us know how much we really, really wanted a third. Baby J is the best. He is also very naughty, which makes us very sure of our decision not to have a fourth**.

And here I go on another tangent. Just a second ago, I Googled HELLP Syndrome to find a link to add to this post. I haven't done that in years, but there was a time when I wanted to read about it every day. I was obsessed, I guess. I don't think that was a bad thing. We needed to know what could happen in future pregnancies (Answer: Same thing, but usually not as bad.) and if there was anything that could be done to prevent it (Answer: Nothing. But healthy eating and controlling my blood pressure with medication seemed to help some.) There's so little information about HELLP and most people who've had it crave answers. Even though I've only met a handful of people in real life who had HELLP, the internet is filled with groupies. I still don't know what causes it, but I think Diet Coke must be the cure. In my last pregnancy, which lasted a whopping (for me) 37 weeks, I allowed myself a can or two of my cherished vice a week. Baby J was almost full term, so it must have been the Diet Coke. Or the acupuncture. Or the exercise. Or luck.

Back to picking up children and squeezing them: When O was born, he weighed 3 pounds and 6 ounces. I weighed about a thousand pounds. We were both hooked up to this and that machine in different rooms, so I didn't get to see him for a couple of days. My dad brought me pictures from the nursery and I held his little hat and smelled it. I cried a lot, because Morphine will make you moody. That is the worst drug, by the way. It doesn't mask pain, it just makes you too tired to complain. I recommend Demerol. Fun times. More than anything, I wanted to pick up O. and squeeze him. I don't remember when we were allowed to hold him, but I do remember spending hours beside his bassinet in the special care nursery, stroking his tiny body with one finger, because my hand was too big. He came home after a month, weighing about four and a half pounds. It was a while before I could really squeeze him.

I didn't see O. at the moment he was born, because I was out cold. I remember feeling really happy about waking up, because from the way everyone was freaking out before I went under, I didn't know if that was going to happen. The last thing I remembered was hearing my doctor argue with the anesthesiologist about whether to use general anesthesia or an epidural. I heard the obstetrician ask for some sort of cutting thing and thought, "Oh. My. God. They didn't finish their little anesthesia chat! This is gonna' be a b*tch." I tried to recommend that they just pick one, but the room went dark, so I guess they already had. Waking up, thrilled to be alive, I looked down at my still full belly, turned to my mother and said,

"Oh! They kept the baby in!"

My happiness was short lived. The baby, thankfully, was tiny but fine. And not in my belly. That mountain was all me. That's what happens if you gain 80 pounds. Knowing that, I did it again in my second pregnancy. Some people never learn. To make a long story short, the baby grew and I shrunk. We both reached normal size. All's well that ends well.

Anyhow, I've exceeded my daily allotment of digressions, so I'll stop. Thanks for letting me relive the memories. Now I'm off to pick up my children and squeeze them!

Namasté, y'all!

* And yours, of course. Yours are adorable, as long as they don't get up in my personal space.

** Well, pretty sure. I'm getting too old for that sh*t, yo.