10 years ago your father and I were getting ready. Your Dad made me a huge spaghetti dinner (his specialty) per order of my doctor who said (and I quote!) "Have a big dinner and go to bed early because tomorrow will be one busy day!" We had to be in the hospital by midnight of February 4, 1997.
So, we arrived and were shuttled into a dark little room with one bed and a TV. Your Dad made his place on the chair by my bed. The nurse came in and started a special "IV" for me. According to my first doctor (whom I only went to one time because he would speak to your Father and not to me) you would be born around Feb 2 or 4th. According to Doctor Gail Jackson you were due January 19th. So, you were over two weeks late by one doctor's account and right on time from another. Your Dad flipped from one cable station to another settling on one of the Charlie Brown specials on TV. When that was over we watched a Danny Kaye film. Your Dad tried to sleep on the floor. I tried to get him to crawl into bed with me so at least he'd be comfortable.
I don't remember when the pain started but I do remember them giving me some kind of drug to ease it and it was really WEIRD. I felt this "wave" type sensation and I think I fell asleep.
The day was a long one. I was only allowed that weird drug 3 x before they cut me off.
I vaguely remember being annoyed because they said that the delivery room would have a VCR in it (it didn't) so we could watch movies...I think it did have a radio but it didn't play tapes (which was all we had). I must've been really spaced out on the baby drugs because I remember saying some WEIRD things to your Father.
Some time in the afternoon, they told your Dad to go get something to eat so he headed over to the Beverly Center. I kept thinking that he was going to miss everything and that I would be alone. So he ate a pizza and they gave me a popsicle. Exciting, huh?
You came into the world about 5 p.m. It was a Tuesday. You were "talking" to me. It was the cutest thing-little mumblings. You kept looking at me. I noticed the little bridge of freckles across your nose (and I kissed it). I also noticed the little line of hair that went from your left eyebrow to the top of your head it was so faint and cute.
Tristan Keaton Kilmer. Your Dad named you (we fought because he originally wanted Orson after Orson Welles but we compromised). I loved the sound of Tristan Keaton and still do.
It's amazing that it has been 10 years already. I love you, my little boy. No matter how old you are, you will still be my boy.
Happy Birthday, Tristan.
Comments