My eldest will be 22 this week.
That's like... one more than being a full grown adult and all that jazz.
I *know* I just had him.
Actually 22 years ago today, I went in for an amniocentesis. I was in a lot of pain from a lovely kidney condition that could only be fixed by delivery, taking Lorcet Plus daily to try and keep from crying as I waited for baby to come out. I was over 38 weeks, and I was READY. I'd been dealing with the pain for months and months and the thought of sweet relief (and meeting my baby) was just such a wonderful thought. But my doctor was conservative and wouldn't induce until week 39 unless baby was ready, unless there was a good reason. I was coping, with the lovely drugs, so... amnio.
We went in for the amnio, and got to see our sweet baby again. Grainy images that look nothing like today's 4D u/s. But still - BABY! And then the doctor came in to do the amnio. I saw the kit, saw the needle. Yo. That was one LONG needle. But then he said... can't do it. No way to get to a good pocket of fluid without going through the placenta... too much risk and pain for the procedure... and then he said... next Monday. We'll induce next Monday. Just 7 more days to go.
We went out to eat that night. Our final pre-baby date night. And we were so thrilled. 5 years of infertility and soon, we'd meet our baby.
It was sooner than we thought that night, since my water broke 4 days later. And we met our son. Twenty two years ago. Happy birthday, sweet baby boy.