Friday, August 14, 2009

At 9:16, Mountain Daylight Time, in 1972...

the Favorite Son was born at St. Anthony Hospital in Denver, Colorado. He was early, about three weeks or so, and a little less hefty than he should have been. In addition, he developed a slight case of jaundice in his first days of life on this plane and his little tushy was under the lights for a few days, as the extra bilirubin in his system subsided.

Our first days with him were easy; he nursed well, was predictable (more or less) in his sleeping patterns, that sort of thing. But at his first appointment with the pediatrician, the doc picked up a heart murmur and sent us off to a pediatric cardiologist. Many tests later, the heart doc pronounced him sound, with what he called a right bundle branch block, an electrical irregularity which was unlikely to cause him problems.

Because he was born three weeks early, the paternal grandparents had not yet arrived, and in those days before ubiquitous cell phones and answering machines, we could not share the news until they called us from the road. Once conveyed, the news brought them straight to our doorstep.

And what a relief that was! Because, in his zeal to be growing something himself as my belly expanded, the Dad had planted 75 tomato plants and it was a hot summer. On August 14, all 75 seemed to be producing ripe fruit at the same time. The grandparents knew a thing or two about canning and about comforting babies, as well as first-time mothers, and we were saved!

The FS grew up to be quite a guy. We never bothered to try for a second child; the first one broke all the molds and it felt quite enough to raise one child like this successfully. Which I think we managed to do, more or less, even through divorce, school difficulties, work difficulties, and the like.

He has turned out to be the best "thing" that ever happened to me. He has always made me laugh, almost never made me cry, gave me things to worry about as all kids do, but always managed to learn from his challenges. And now he is married to a beautiful woman with two beautiful teenage kids, studying to be a teacher, ruling the local chapter of the re-enactment group he belongs to in Reno, and making his mother extremely proud.

I love you, FS!


Christine Robinson said...

My mom tended our first and only and canned our tomatoes, too! Yeah, late Summer babies!

ms. kitty said...

My mom arrived a few weeks later and did her bit as well; by then, the Dad's folks had left and we needed reinforcements. She was in Norway with relatives when he was born.

Not that much fun being pregnant in 100 degree weather, but the results were excellent.

Diggitt said...

I was born in San Antonio at the end of July, pre-air conditioning. It's amazing that my mother ever spoke to me again.

Kari said...

Lovely! Thanks for sharing, Kit.

Mile High Pixie said...

Hooray for good sons! Glad you were lucky (and did a good job raising him too)!