Uriah the Comedian: An Introduction
This boy is the sweetest thing since sugar. His little spirit is so overwhelmingly loving. He wasn't terribly patient either, took after sister a bit. Two weeks, two agonizing weeks of prodromal labor and he finally arrived.
We chose to give birth in a hospital an hour from home for childcare purposes. My parents lived about a mile from the hospital and were willing to take the big kids in the event we needed them to.
The two weeks I spent in agonizing fake labor were spent in my parents home. I know it wasn't pleasant (sorry mom) to have 4 extra people loafing about the house. Jeremy and I walked miles and miles, tried all sorts of weird belly positioning and exercises to get this kid out. For that solid two weeks, he absolutely refused to budge. Just as stubborn and opinionated as the children who came before him. Surprise, surprise.
We went home because obviously he wasn't coming. Friday night we got back to our house, an hour from the hospital, popped the kids in bed and laid down. Saturday morning was about as eventful as the past two weeks had been so we just kept living life. I caught up on laundry, cleaned the bathroom, got lots of cleaning done actually and went grocery shopping. Saturday night as I hopped in the shower it occurred to me that these labor pains were getting kind of strong and may not be fake anymore. I clearly ignored them for as long as possible, of course there were fake, they had been for two full weeks!
Because I was so sure they were fake, I left Jeremy and the kids at home. I took our only vehicle and drove back to the hospital, again. *I feel like a lot of you gasped, and you should have. If you didn't, read it again and gasp for me, will ya?* Anyone with kids knows just how bad a mistake I made, and I should've known too after sister's arrival just 19 short months before. My mom met me at the hospital at midnight, she could tell something wasn't the same. The nurses checked me, my contractions were regular but my cervix was fine. They set plans to discharge me in motion. Told y'all it was fake. Paperwork takes a while and between the "we're going to discharge you" and the actual discharging me there was a massive shift in my contractions.
For those of you who personally don't know me, I struggle a great deal with controlling my mouth when I'm in pain. Cursing is something I've worked hard in recent months and years to control, but get me into full blown labor and any attempt to control myself flies directly out the window. Especially without an epidural, which is how I insisted on laboring. I went from a 6 to an 8 pretty quickly on the pain scale. This was around 3 am. Nurses checked me again, still not dilated even a finger tip! Like what?
At this point they're holding off on discharge cause I'm simultaneously cursing at the staff and apologizing for being a raging psycho. My mother is finding it hysterical, naturally. 5am, check me again... oh you're a 3! Well, yeah... told y'all I was in labor. So, I call Jeremy. And I call Jeremy... and I keep calling Jeremy. Forty-seven phone calls and eighty some odd text messages... call me crazy all you want this man needed to WAKE UP! My doula, also my best friend of 15 years, did answer the phone, but she lived two hours away from the hospital and an hour away from my house. She jumped in her car and headed to my house, my husband finally answered the phone about 15 minutes before she got there. They loaded the kids into her father-in-laws vehicle and drove the additional hour at what Tricia describes as a fast pace and Jeremy describes as "Driving Miss Daisy." I'll let them fight that one out for the rest of our lives.
In any event, they walked in about 30 minutes before Uriah made his grand entrance. Cutting it so close that they didn't even have time to drop the kids off. My mom went to the waiting room to be with the big kids while Tricia and Jeremy assumed their positions. Three solid pushes and my 7 lbs and 7 oz of pure sweet boy came into the world. Not as naturally as I'd like, I did eventually cave to the pain. Zero shame, epidurals are magical.
He is an angel. This boy is his mother's little shadow. A little dancing king, snuggly, snotty nosed, stinky boy. His little heart is so pure. When you need a snuggle or a kiss, you can absolutely count on Uriah, but only for a minute because he obviously has more important things to do. Ya know, a two year old's schedule is pretty full of jumping on things and making loud noises, big messes, etc.
His genuine sense of humor is probably the best thing since sliced bread. Knock-knock jokes are his favorite, though we are working on the punch lines. There's a bit of a language barrier, since he's two and all. Not a day has passed since he came to be that we aren't thankful for his little self. Watching him bud into a fantastic big brother has brought a joy I cannot even express. He nursed for 17 very long months, when I was about 10 weeks pregnant with Isilee the inevitable happened and he weaned. Neither of the big kids nursed well or long, and here my baby who didn't even take a sippy cup until his first birthday was done. Stripping his "baby" status was so much harder for me than the others. I attribute that mostly to his breastfeeding for so long, but man has he made being a big brother look easy!
The heart God gave to him is so full of love, passionate boundless love for other people. "Wuv you so much" is the sweetest little phrase he knows and it's by far my favorite thing to hear from him on a daily basis. We know he will do great things with that heart of his. And I know it'll be a hard road to be as sweet a boy as he is in a world that isn't quite as nice as I'd like. We are so thankful for his little lovers heart and pray we do everything in our power to foster it. ❤