This time eight years ago, I was sure I was dying. I was about 15 hours into what would be a 36 hour long labor (when I got pregnant with number two, they said it would go faster. They lied). I had spent my pregnancy fearing the end of the process. Nobody told me what an everliving bitch contractions are--I seriously wished a three day labor on my midwife. When she had her own it took her all of four hours. Bitch could have repopulated the planet in the time it took me to get out two.
So tomorrow, son number one will be eight whole years old. How in the hell did that happen? I have this feeling that when eighteen rolls around, I will be saying the same thing lol.