I couldn't let this day go by without wishing my firstborn a happy life. Like every mother since time began, I remember this day, so many years ago - vividly. It was the worst and best day of my life.
Back then, it wasn't in vogue to take any pain medication. Boomers (formerly known as Hippies) were having babies and they espoused "natural" childbirth. Ironic that the generation which heralded in the drug culture, drew the line at meds used during the most excruciatingly painful experience a woman can endure! If you so much as hinted you might want something to take the edge off - you were looked at as a traitor to motherhood itself. So there we were, drugless and homicidal.
I went into the hospital that morning, two weeks overdue and 80 pounds over my starting weight, but excited. When labor started, I declined so much as an aspirin. By late afternoon, I was begging for morphine, heroin, Jack Daniels (mainly so I could crack the bottle and use it as a weapon against just about anyone who came near me) - anything to ease my suffering.
I think at some point I may have punched my husband in the face when he tried to get me to breathe. I thought I was breathing, but they may have mistaken it for demon possession sounds.
I definitely grabbed the doctor by his jacket and threatened his life when, later that day, he said he was going to slip out for a bite to eat. Eat??? How dare he?? It was his fault I didn't have a C-Section but rather pushed out an enormous child weighing nearly 11 pounds.
Our son. His head looked like an eggplant but he was ours. The last thing I remember the doctor saying was, "Wow, I thought maybe 8 pounds at the most - but yikes!" Then I passed out and woke up on his fifth birthday.
They say the pain is forgotten - not really - but it is replaced with joy when you see your child for the first time. He was chubby and looked more like a three month old in the nursery. The clothes we planned on bringing him home in were too small. People would stop and wonder why the big baby, who didn't fit in their tiny plastic bins, was in the nursery. At 10"6 1/2ozs, and 23 inches long, he was the biggest kid on the block.
He has been larger than life ever since.
What does this have to do with pets? Nothing, really. Remember, this is my blog and I can do what I want. But for those of you with the need to tie things up in a nice bow - I will add this:
Before him (and three years later his beautiful sister) I shared my life with lots of animals. I tried to instill in both of my children a love of animals and nature. I honestly believe it helped to make them the compassionate, loving people they are today.
Oh, sure, our "pet years" as a family were fraught with drama and the unexpected (Molly (Pekingese,) Ned (parakeet,) Rocky (Boxer from hell,) rats (rats,) snakes (shudder), Ariel (Shih Tzu,) Lucky (Jack Russell,) Simon (Chihuahua,) Seven (JRT and Chihuahua mix,) the girls (French Bulldogs) - every one a story. I was a working mom so little time was left for our animal friends. I regret this and perhaps dote on the creatures in my life even more as a sort of atonement.
My advice to young parents - definitely teach your children the value of living with and taking care of other creatures. Lead by example in caring for them, and showing them love and compassion. But, don't take on more than your lifestyle can accommodate.
Your children will learn just as much when you do things like, talking to them about conservation, protecting animals in their natural habitat, rescuing animals in need, choosing to see animals in their natural environment rather than in circuses, zoos and theme parks, and reading to them books about all creatures.
Remember, these kids are going to grow up and, perhaps, take care of you someday. When/if that day comes, you hope they will feed and water you; make sure you don't have fleas and take you for walks. You certainly don't want them to leave you chained up in the backyard, now do you?
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