Nine years ago today, I was unknowingly on the brink of a move to a new nation. In just two weeks, my first baby was due. According to the schedule, my baby was supposed to be born in the dawn of a new year, a new century, and new millennium.
My baby had other ideas, however, and I went into labor nine years ago today. As is common with the first pregnancy, this labor was long – 23 hours long – and painful – even with the epidural, the pain was excruciating. At one point near the end, I made the decision that I would stop the delivery process. That I would remain pregnant for the rest of my life seemed a logical solution to the situation I was faced with.
Luckily, my doctor, an experienced obstetrician, a mother herself, ignored my plea to stop the process and calmly continued the work of bringing this baby into the world. Instead of being born in the first week of the new millennium, my son, with his penchant for doing things his way, was born late in the evening as the sun set on the 20th century. What I remember of that day was not the pain, but the joy. Holding my son for the first time was one of the most joyful moments of life.
So tomorrow, I celebrate not only my son’s ninth birthday, but my ninth anniversary as an inhabitant of Sippy Cup Nation – also known as parenthood.
And today, I begin a blog that focuses on issues of parenting, attempting for myself to map out the strange, magical, wondrous, unchcarted territory known as parenting.
sippycupnation.wordpress.com 