I set my alarm for 5:06 this morning. I wiped my tired eyes and listened to the calm of the sleeping house. I wanted a peaceful moment to remember (seriously, how could I ever forget) the unbelievable craziness that lead up to 5:07 am, July 29, 2011. I quickly flashed through memories of my screams, my panic, my attempts at convincing my husband to call an ambulance, the sound of sirens, the pain (oh my the pain!), the lack of coverage on the lower half of my body while being carted out of my house on a stretcher, the silliness of asking for medication in the ambulance, the first two of four pushes that I thought I might not live through, the last two that I'm still not sure how my body was able to do and then...5:07! "It's a boy!", I said. I know I said it even though Paul claims I didn't say a word. And there he was, my son, delivered on the 5000 block of Kimball Avenue, just past a small bridge over the north branch of the Chicago river, in the back of Ambulance 32.
And here is Gannon today, in that same special location (no ambulance needed). A perfect day, just like the first day he joined our family.
Mr. Man is 1!
Happy Birthday, Gannon. I wouldn't change a thing about the way you came into this world. Your adorable smile, wet kisses and genuine happiness every single day is my reward for the fruits of my labor (literally). I love you, bugaboo.
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