Seventeen years ago today Matthew was born in the wee hours of the morning. It was a busy night for the hospital. Every pregnant woman in Jacksonville was there. I laid on a stretcher in the hallway for I don’t know how long. Then I was wheeled into the surgery recovery room, because there was no birthing rooms available.
I remember there was eight women in there. I waited and waited and waited. Finally they visited the lady beside me. She insisted she was in labor and refused to go home. They shoved her out the door. Then they came to me and said, “Yes, Mrs. G. you are in labor.” I said, “No I’m not.” “Um, yes you are” and they shoved me in a birthing room. Then I had this little thing in just a few hours.
He arrived three weeks and one day early. Weighed 5 lbs 10 oz. It was a month before he weighted more than any newer babies at church.
He started screaming the day he was born and didn’t stop until after five months. Then there was silence every so often, until he started to talk. There was no silence after that.
He grew the cutest head of curls and cried when they were cut off.
Now in his teen years, he torments by doing things like this.
He stopped talking to me around the age of 14. He is 17 now and is talking to me. Not as much as when he was 4, but I am ok with that.
Happy Birthday, Matthew!