The Middle Monkey crossed over from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts, earning his Arrow of Light.
He also “graduated” from elementary school.
One of my favorite classes EVER graduated from high school.
The group of students that I “looped” with for three years, “graduated” from middle school (as I watched some of them at their ceremony, all I could see were the scared little third graders that walked into my class on that first day of school six years ago).
But, on this, my 100th post (such a milestone in itself), that I write about two HUGE milestones happening today.
1.) Monkey #1 is turning 13 today.
2.) Thirteen years ago, I started this magical mystery tour of motherhood.
Both momentous in their own right. Yet, neither one could have happened without the other. And ironically, both of them almost did not happen.
The day of his birth was a difficult one. Very difficult. His labor wasn’t easy. For two and a half hours, I tried to push him out. I can remember watching the monitor and seeing his heart rate drop dramatically with every contraction. The nurse was busy with two other births. So, she was not as vigilant as she could have been. I was a first time mother. So, I didn’t know what was normal. But, for two and a half hours, this continued. Finally, the nurse sees what is happening on the monitor, and decides to get the doctor. And with a little bit of help, my monkey was born.
My baby was here! Finally!
But there was a problem. His cord was wrapped around his neck. Four times. It had been impeding his progress – as well as slowly choking him.
And now my sweet monkey was not crying. And he was bluish. And he was limp.
For 20 minutes the team worked on him. Suctioning. Pounding. Massaging. Thankfully, I remember none of that.
All I can remember is saying, “Can someone please bring me my baby?” Over and over and over.
And then after 20 of the longest minutes every recorded, his cries became stronger, and my little bundle of monkey was brought to me.
And he was pink. And he was healthy. And he was strong.
In the past thirteen years, I have frequently thought about the bullet that was dodged that day. I think about the what COULD have beens. But, each time I do, I thank God that all of the could have beens didn’t happen. And that my sweet monkey is everything he SHOULD have been.
Quirky. Creative. Brilliant. Curious. Active. Asperger-y.
Some think of the number 13 as a terribly unlucky number. One to be avoided at all costs.
I chose to think of it as very VERY lucky.
So, happy birthday, my dear Monkey #1.
Rawr, rawr, baby Dino. I love you more.