Baby talk.

I'm an aunt again! Josh's sister and her husband welcomed a sweet baby boy into the world yesterday.

His name is Caleb, and he will now be the third child to fall victim to the incredible spoiling force that is Pat the Bunny.

It's times like these that it is so hard to live far away from family.

I want to be there to hold that smooshy baby while he's little and floppy. 
I want to see if he has hairy ears and marvel at the size of his tiny diapers.
I want to witness the glazed look on the faces of the new parents as they begin to realize what sleep deprivation really feels like.

And then I want to laugh at them.

Ha! I'm joking!
I don't want to laugh at them.
I want to tell them that one day, they will sleep for five hours. In a row.
And they will feel like brand new people.

And then I'll tell them that one day, that baby, who looks like innocence wrapped in perfection, will cause them to have to walk out of the room lest they act on their impulse to cause him some physical pain.
It will happen.

For me it usually happens at bathtime.

Because the room is small, hot, and loud. And they are no longer innocence wrapped in perfection. And someone is always on someone else's side of the tub, and someone will always splash someone else, and there will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth when someone takes the coveted cup from the other one.

I kind of got off topic.
But I really would love to hold my new nephew.

When I saw this picture of him today:

It totally reminded me of when my Derek was newly born, and laying in his blue boppy:

Which reminded me that I don't think I've ever shared the way that I deceived the medical community into inducing my labor with said child.

So now I shall tell you.

Warning: This story contains words like dilated and effaced. Feel free to disengage now if this makes you uncomfortable. 

Many moons ago, I was great with child.
Very great.
Like 40 lbs great.

It was about a week and a half or so before my due date, but all of the doctors were surprised he hadn't made his arrival yet, because I had been fairly well dilated and effaced for quite some time, and he was head down and low.

My mom, who was desperate to be present for the birth (she wasn't able to be there for Alex's delivery), had moved her tickets up because she was so sure that he would come early.
Well, come he did not.
We tried all of the tricks. Including the one that I am now convinced was invented by males and is a total fallacy.
Ahem.

As we neared the end of my mother's visit, I had my weekly appointment.
They took my blood pressure and it was mildly elevated. The doctor decided I should go over to the labor & delivery unit to be hooked up to the monitors for an hour and get more frequent readings.

This doctor was brand new to the base clinic, and I did not offer all of the information that I could have. For instance, the blood pressure machine they used at my appointment always gave high readings. It needed to be repaired. In the past, after getting a high reading with that machine, they would retake my BP w/ a manual sphygmomanometer* and the results would be normal.

*This is the actual term for the instrument that takes your blood pressure. Don't say you never learn anything here.

So I was fairly confident that after an hour at L&D, I'd be packing up and heading home.

But I'm a tricky sort, and I quite wanted that baby to come out that very day.
So as I laid there in the bed, every time the blood pressure cuff would inflate, I would bear down and strain my arm muscles.

I know, I know. I was totally using my nursing knowledge for evil.
*Head hung in shame*

About 2 readings later, they came over to admit me and start the pitocin.
I won.

Derek was born about 2 hours later.

Welcome to the world, Caleb!