Teenager

I just looked up Teenager in the dictionary.  "A person in their teens".....gee, thanks!  No instructions, no manual, no nothing.  Today, my eldest son turns 13.  I'm in shock.  Where have those 13 years gone?  Who is this man-child that stands before me?  What do I need to know in order to keep him my little boy for just a little bit longer?  I'm in shock.

This first joy of my life arrived on this earth in the most excruciating fashion.  I was a somewhat naive 23 year old girl, married for 18 months, still not completely comfortable in my own skin.  Enter: childbirth.  I was prepared.  Well I thought I was prepared.  Ten days overdue, contractions began at 2am on Friday the 13th - an omen?  Hours were spent up and down out of bed trying to stay calm - and then my waters broke.  Along with hell.

Trying to have a shower in labour is not ideal.  Trying to do so whilst your ever-so-caring Maltese Mother-in-law opens the door and offers her help is extremely unnerving! The unfamiliar painful drive to the hospital was followed by a painful wheelchair trip to the Labour Ward.  I can still remember holding on to the doorway of the room and looking right in to my Mother's eyes and telling her "I don't think I can do this"......to which she replied "It's too late".

What followed in the hours after this is nothing short of hideous.  Trying the bath, because it's supposed to ease the pain - wrong.  Trying pethadine because it's supposed to ease the pain - wrong.  Trying anything and everything to ease the pain - wrong.  It turns out my beautiful boy was posterior - ie. his spine was on my spine. This is something I wasn't told until well in to labour.  Let it be said that with my next pregnancy, when I found out late in the pregnancy baby was posterior.....I did every exercise invented to move that baby's position!

Hours spent on my back writhing in agony, sucking furiously on a gas mask, were eventually over.  But not before a dozen doctors, midwives and students made their way through the room observing.  I was a spectacle!  Forceps were attempted - no go.  Some sort of mechanical vacuum device was attempted - sorry, don't have all the parts, no go.  So lucky me got a delightful episiotomy.  My delivery ended at 2.10pm, with legs in stirrups and my lady bits out there for all and sundry.  But as is always generally the case, all of this pandemonium ended when a great big ball of dark hair and chubby skin was placed on my chest.  I was in shock.

Lachlan was a tender nine pounds, nine ounces.  Nothing short of enormous for my little frame.  But the immediate love and affection I felt for this little man was amazing.  He has now grown in to an amazing teenager.  One that is loving, caring and a lot of the time incredibly annoying!  But I would go through all of that pain, agony and shock to get the same result.

Happy 13th birthday my dear Lochie.