May 20th, 2011

Dear Damen Robert,

In honor of your 2nd birthday, I'm going to tell the story of popping you out, scratch that, getting you ripped out of my stomach. It was a chaotic and blurry day, but I think it's important for you to know what happened.
All week I had been doing every thing I could to get you out of me. No offense, but at that stage in pregnancy I would have done ANYTHING. In fact, I sort of went to some extreme measures. I would go on a nightly walk, and that last week it turned into, let's see how far I can jog my fat ass before labor starts. Four feet later I was out of breath and could barely make it home. The morning before you came into this world, I had made some nasty tea concoction that was supposed to instantly throw me into contractions! After waiting not so patiently for an hour or so I went to bed.
This is where the fun started. Around seven or so in the morning, I woke up with the worst headache I've ever experienced. After coming to terms with the ice pick between my eyes, I waddled downstairs to get some Tylenol. Shit hit the fan. I told your grandma that I was having some problems. When I tried to walk up the stairs, I realized my vision was blurry, and I could really remember how to take steps. Somehow I actually made it up to my room, where I violently shook your father until he woke up from his hibernation. He made the excellent decision to check my blood pressure. (Thank you grandpa, for the nifty portable blood pressure machine.) My number was about 190 over something ridiculous. When I called the nurse on call, she said, and I quote, "GO TO THE HOSPITAL." My foggy brain understood this as, take your sweet time and decide if you're really going to the hospital right now. Luckily your daddy took control of the situation and threw my ass in the car.
When we got to the ER, he tried to drop me off at the front so he could go park. Fail. I stood in the road until someone grabbed my arm. At this point I had forgotten how to walk. The registration nurse was asking me my name, social security number, how I had gotten to the hospital. I had no freaking idea who I was, or what I was doing. All I knew was that my head FREAKING hurt and that I was a huge pregopotomus. Needless to say, they rushed us back to a room right away.From here on out, I was shifting in and out of consciousness. A nurse tried to get me to pee in a cup and put on the gown. I knew what I was supposed to do, but my brain couldn't tell me how to do it. I stood in the bathroom crying. They hooked me up to a whole bunch of machines, to monitor my heart, your heart, my blood pressure. My blood pressure was 230 over an even more ridiculous number. They thought I had to have stroked.
I was completely gone, I remember coming to and asking if my dad was there yet, and at one point I recognized your daddy. Next thing I knew, They were asking me to lean forward so they could stick a needle in my back. It wasn't actually that bad,  the operating room cold was the worst thing. Two seconds later, I was laid out on the table. "You're going to feel some pressure," and you were right in front of me.
That day went from, OH SHIT I'M GOING TO DIE, to the happiest and best day of my life. I couldn't believe the little creature that your father and I had created. I love you Damen Robert, and your chaotic birth couldn't have been more fitting for the crazy little person you are today. Happy birthday baby, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Love,
Mom