one week before Christmas

Dear Dr. Trupp,

8 years ago I taught school for most of the day.  It was just a week away from Christmas, and all the last minute wrapping, card making, cookie decorating, candy eating, BINGO playing, and more had to be done.  My classroom was filled with first graders who were excited for Christmas, but also excited for a sweet little baby to arrive.  I had been having contractions & you totally left it up to me if I wanted to be induced.

Oh how I fretted.  I'd call my husband, we'd talk, and then 10 minutes later he'd call me back and we'd talk some more.  All I could remember while sitting in Andee's with my feet propped up was our birthing class instructor saying:  Do NOT get induced if you have a choice.  Well, you gave us a choice and we made it.  I wanted to enjoy Christmas with a new baby in my arms, not in my belly, and my husband was just ready for whatever his very pregnant wife was ready for.

 Little did we know what an entrance Mason would make.  The balloons in the hallway seemed appropriate this year as I remember how hard I had to push, and all the air I had to breathe and blow.  It was a lot like blowing up balloons - bags and bags of them!  Hours later and all the hard work & pain was forgotten momentarily as this sweet little boy was placed on my chest and Ian ran out to the waiting room with Aunt Kirsten to tell everyone:  It 's a boy!

Mason's been a constant source of joy in our life, despite the tantrums, tears, and very strong will.

He's made us proud, angry, overwhelmed, and most of all - happy.

This 8 year old has made me the mom I never thought I'd have the strength to be, and has given his dad one of the hardest working, determined sons he could ever have dreamed for.

I don't know if you remember not going home even after your shift was over.

I don't know what made you decide to stay & talk about cows and chains with my husband, but you did.

I'm not even sure if you remember cheering me on while sitting on the floor of my hospital room as you propped yourself up against the nice, padded benches that are a make-shift bed quietly urging me forward.

I do know that I'll never forget you.

Never.

Because, with your help, I now have a rambunctious, happy, getting-taller-by-the-minute son that has just turned 8.

Thank you for helping me wade my way into soccer balls, pitchforks and silly-string.

Yes, I'm thanking you for silly string ... because somehow silly string reminds me of an early morning delivery 8 years ago.  There wasn't silly string, but there was a lot of anticipation, a lot of joy, a lot of hands-in-the-air {when will this be over}, and a lot of bursts of energy scattered.

And honestly, if I didn't have this sweet boy 8 years ago, I wouldn't have purchased cans of silly string specifically for a birthday evening craze to be held in the yard.  In fact, I wouldn't have even gone down the aisle that has all that {fun} birthday stuff.  So thank you.

Thank you for building quiet confidence in me during each of my visits.

Thank you for being truthful and optimistic.

Thank you for sticking it out with me those years ago.

May you know what a gift you helped deliver into my world - and the world of many others too!

With respect for your profession & dedication to your patients~

Lindsay

P.S.  I'll see you later today for my annual visit & I know you'll ask about my boys {all 3} and well, thanks.