You know how parents always hold over their kids heads, “we walked barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways, to have you.” Well, we did. Twice.
Side note: If we ever decided to have a third kid, we would definitely not have another winter baby. I hope.
It was December, well before we usually see a first freeze in North Texas.
Then it happened. Again.
“Earlier this week, many in Texas were basking in spring-like temperatures that hit the 80s,” said an article on Yahoo! “But by Thursday, Texas was facing the same wintry blast that has slammed much of the U.S., bringing frigid temperatures, ice and snow.”
At least this time, we knew she’d be coming in the Icemageddon. (Snowpacalypse had already been taken, so North Texas chose the next best option.)
We sent our oldest to my parents and prepped them that like K, she would probably make a similar appearance.
And she did, but this time with as much flair and drama that she brings in her toddlerhood.
I started having some early labor pains and frantically began shooting off last minute projects, emails and nonsense for staff in my soon-to-be-absence.
Shortly after I went into labor, we just headed to the hospital. We knew better. It was early, we knew, but we weren’t getting stuck.
After several hours of almost nothing, my doctor sent us back home, on the ice.
We shouldn’t have listened, but a shower and a nap sounded nice.
Within 15 minutes of being home, my water broke and I quickly jumped from active labor to transitional labor (the part at the very end that really sucks without an epidural. For my friends who did it without drugs, I salute you).
We barely made it to the hospital. I fell out of the car and was carried in by Super Dad and another random guy (I didn’t get a chance to ask his name or thank him for carrying me across the hospital. I’m not even sure he was a guy, actually). Then, made her appearance in the world a few moments later.
The good news: we left all the faucets on this time.