Happy Birthday to my not-so-baby

I'm off to see my Mum and the rest of my family and peeps in New Zealand next week, so I am going to miss Jeff's birthday and Easter and Charlie's birthday and Annie's birthday. 

Method to my madness, ya think?

Anyway, my kids know not to expect a big fuss every time there's a birthday, but once in a while I like to do a special post for one of my darling offspring.

And this is one of them.

This is for Sam, to prove that I did take some notes on Charlie's arrival! Sorry if it contradicts some of my earlier info, Sam, I had to think a few things through.

Charlie was a surprise. 

Just want to put that out there.

It had been five years since our last baby and, well, we weren't trying not to, if you know what I mean, and suddenly, when Jeff was out of town on a business trip, I discovered I was pregnant.

We were happy about it, but I soon became violently ill, as in raging nausea and vomiting, and then my left leg got swollen and painful again and, by three months, I was in the hospital with phlebitis. My leg was full of blood clots and my longevity was in question. Ten days in the hospital and a new regimen of two Heparin shots a day in my stomach pretty much nixed the blood clots. Jeff struggled along with the other three, with help from friends, and got grumpy again. 

Plans for another home birth were shot and I started seeing a high-risk doctor at Kaiser. He was a doll and as kind a man as I have ever met and I fell half in love with him, what with Jeff still being grumpy and all. 

The nausea didn't abate one whit and I got big red spots in the whites of my eyes from the force of throwing up everything I ate. My growing stomach became bilious shades of purple and green from the subcutaneous shots of blood thinner. I survived, but did not thrive. I sent the three kids off to school each morning and went back to bed until Annie came home from Kindergarten. Jeff cleaned the house and took care of everything as well as he could, with me pitching in when I was able.

We had already planned a trip to New Zealand and bought the tickets before we knew of the pregnancy, so, with permission from my doctor, when I was five months along, we went. I had to travel back home with the three older kids alone, as Jeff had returned to work earlier. The trip included a night in Honolulu, which was not awesome, dragging three kids and our bags back and forth from the hotel. Checking our luggage onto the flight, after waiting in line forever, the handlers refused to lift the bags onto the conveyor belt. I promptly broke into tears and some of our fellow travelers rescued me. I've had a bit of a disdain for Honolulu Airport ever since.

Charlie was due on April 1st and, if I didn't go into labour spontaneously, the plan was to induce on the 2nd. I was determined not to have an April Fool's baby and also didn't want to be induced. I guess I was due for some goodness, because I started labour in the wee hours of the morning of the 2nd. We called Jeff's aunty to let her know, as she was coming to stay with Jonnie and Annie. Bethany was to attend the birth with my good friend, Kathy. Don't come yet, I said, we just wanted you to be prepared. Well, she was over shortly and shooed us off to the hospital. I'd never had to be in a car while I was in labour before, and we had to go all the way into Portland. It was the one time in his life that Jeff actually exceeded the speed limits. 

I was expecting my usual long, drawn-out labour, and when things got kind of intense I got some Demerol, thinking I would never make it through the day. My lovely doctor had just come on duty and I felt like I need to push, but figured it was too soon. Nope, he measured and I was ready. Off to the delivery room we went,  all of us. It didn't take too many pushes and out he came, with his little ears all squished to the side of his head and red patches in his eyes and on his face from coming down the birth canal so quickly, and my dad's dimple in his left cheek. He was so beautiful, and we named him Isaac Charles.

"Isaac?" exclaimed my Uncle Charlie, when I called to tell him. "That's a Jewish name!"

"Hmmm, no, Uncle Charlie, it's biblical," I said.

And I sat and looked at him in the hospital for three days, while they regulated the blood thinner, and tried to call him Isaac.

But he wasn't an Isaac.

So we called him Charlie, which fit him perfectly and made my uncle very happy.

The Marines owned Charlie for his last four birthdays. 

We are so glad and grateful that he made it home to us. I know there are stories we will never hear about his time away, and we are proud of him for his strength and resilience. 

I am sure that having Sam waiting at home kept him sane. And now she, their beloved Wrangler, and baby-girl-soon-to-arrive London are motivating him to work hard and study hard and be the man he was always meant to be.

He is a patient and tireless uncle...

...and a loving son, and we are so proud of him.

We often give him a hard time about the hard time he gave us in his youth, so I wanted to say this, just a little bit early.

Happy Birthday, Charlie!

We love you.