March 19, 2012

B-Day Part 1: The Antemath

God sure has a great sense of humor. And perhaps little faith that we can remember important dates in this little family.

October 24, 1998: We became boyfriend and girlfriend.*
*I don't actually have a picture of that night, but this was 
taken at the "formal" in February of 1999 just a few months later. 
So many jokes, so little time...

October 24, 2008: We became husband and wife.

October 24, 2011: We became Bryson's parents.

The first date was up to brave 13-year-old Jeremy, who (after nearly a month of giddy note-passing) finally asked me out at the KMS carnival dance. The second date was up to both of us, since we had always loved the idea of getting married our original dating anniversary of October 24th. The third date was apparently up to Bryson, who decided he'd surprise us all and join us in time for our anniversary dinner (which, by the way, consisted of ice chips for me).

Without further ado, here's part one of the tale of how our third anniversary became Bryson's birthday.

After a great babymooniversary weekend at Turtle Bay (more about that in another post), we went to bed like it was any other Sunday. Both of us had work the next day. In fact, I'd even scheduled a dentist appointment for late that afternoon, since I knew Jeremy would be at work until at least 7:30 on our anniversary night! So romantic.

It was just before 4:15 am. I was getting up to use the bathroom for what was probably the fifth time that night (oh, the joys of pregnancy!), and let’s see…how do I tell this part of the story without getting unnecessarily detailed? My water broke. Listen. I peed my pants a time or two back in the day (no, I don't have proof of that, but still) – this was NOT that feeling! One thing I remembered from our childbirth class was the fact that once the mystical "bag of waters" has broken, the baby must be delivered within  24 hours due to the risk of infection. I also realized that unless he was no longer breech, we'd be having a c-section. At that point I wished I'd paid closer attention to the c-section portion of the class. The truth was, she had lost me at "foley catheter"...

This can't really be happening, I thought.

1) I'm not due for another two and a half weeks!
2) It's our anniversary! (Which, while pretty sweet, is not the 11-something-11 birthday I'd envisioned!)
3) What am I supposed to do with the November birthstone necklace charm we got Jerm's mom for Christmas?

I called my mom. I could tell by the way she answered the phone that she knew something was up. Given the hour of the call and the week of my pregnancy, she didn't have to  wonder what I was about to say.

“Mom, I think my water just broke….?!”

In the conversation that followed, she told me that everything would be okay, it was probably time to go to the hospital, and most importantly, (in not so many words) that I was a stinker for going into labor four days before she was scheduled to fly in from Houston. [Fun fact: When we first talked about when my parents should come in town to help prepare for Bryson's arrival, my mom suggested October 24th. I countered with, "Mo-oom, this will be our last anniversary without a kiddo. Just come a few days later. We will still have at least two weeks to get everything ready." HA! She will never let me live that one down.] I still couldn’t believe it. I called the triage nurse at Tripler and explained my situation, and she said to go ahead and come in just to be safe (and beat morning traffic!).

I went upstairs and woke up Jeremy by yelling from the hallway, “I think my water just broke! Or is breaking?! This could be baby day! Oh - and happy anniversary!" It was surreal.  Would we really have our baby on our 3rd/13th anniversary?! The symbolic answer to this question came by way of a tiny little gecko who managed to appear on our bedroom door frame that morning. You see, normally I would flip out upon seeing a gecko inside. As “harmless” as geckos are, and as much as I appreciate them eating mosquitoes or whatever they do, they gross me out. I have a fear of waking up in the middle of the night with one on my face, and hurting myself, someone I love, or something I value in the chaotic aftermath. I much prefer geckos when they’re outside. 

Still, this gecko felt like our harbinger of good (baby) news. We have sort of a history with the little fellas. In high school, there was a gecko that set up shop on the screen of my bathroom window. He was there almost all of the time. I affectionately named him Little Jerm. As a crafty, creative, and otherwise useless anniversary gift for our fourth dating anniversary (10/24/02), I painted a ceramic gecko for Jeremy. While home at my parents'  house in July 2011, I found “Lil Jerm” while going through a box of old stuff in my closet. I brought it home so we could find a spot for him in Bryson’s room. All that to say: This was kind of a weird, full-circle moment.

Okay. Back to the future…10/24/11. I wanted to shower and get things in order before we left, since I wasn’t in any pain. So much of the next 48-72 hours would be out of my control, I figured I could at least do my hair and makeup. (And the immediacy of the morning clearly solved the "straight or curly?" dilemma I'd been struggling with for weeks...) Still under the covers, Jeremy asked what he should do, and I suggested he go back to sleep while I got dressed. I don’t think he did.

In the hour that followed, we each took showers, got dressed, texted family, made the bed, straightened up the house, finished packing the hospital bags, and…I ate a bowl of cereal. You see, my sister-in-law told me that was one thing she’d do differently the next go round – eat before going to the hospital! I should’ve thought that through, however, since my chances of needing a c-section were high. 

My mom warned me not to eat, and in my head, I knew she was right. In my gut, I knew I was hungry. I also knew I’d be grumpy if I didn’t eat, and who wants to be grumpy on baby day?! I called the nurse, hoping she’d tell me what I wanted to hear, and sure enough, her response was, “Go ahead. We’re gonna starve you once you get here anyway!” Welp. That’ll do it. I poured myself some Frosted Shredded Wheat with 2% milk, and ate it while anxiously pacing, leaking, and wondering what on earth the next 24 hours had in store. I’ve eaten a lot of cereal in my life, my friends, but that bowl was undoubtedly the most significant of them all. On one hand, I was following my gut, and on the other hand (the one holding the spoon, no doubt), I was going against my mother’s advice. That has never really turned out well for me.

We snapped a quick photo to document the last time in our house before bringing our baby home, set the alarm, and left our friend Lil Jerm to housesit.

Next stop: Tripler Army Medical Center!

Click here for Part 4.

P.S.  This post is not related to my business, which is about helping bright entrepreneurs attract their dream clients, one brilliant message at a time. HOWEV - if you like my writing and want help with your own, sign up for free tips at!

photo credit: Heartlover1717 via photopin cc


  1. I can relate to the "boy, wish I had listened in child birth classes" feeling. Love the story... keep 'em coming.

    1. So many things I wish I had known, paid attention to, etc. That's why I'm writing it all down this time!