Nine years old. Whod'a thunk it.
We were living in New Jersey, maddmom's mother had died one month earlier and maddmom decide she wanted to try for a VBAC, which did not happen. So she had a second Cesarian He popped out at about nine pounds and fell asleep for about three days. A nice change from the Prince, who still hasn't slept a whole night through.
Number two was a tough one for us, I had just started a new job when the OB saw something on the ultrasound he didn't like (cysts in the ventricals that should have gone away, didn't) and sent us to the "genetic counselor" who told us all of the horrible things that that could mean, although, that probably wouldn't happen to us maddmom should have amniocentecis done just in case. It took three weeks to get the results back, maddmom's mother was terminal and maddmom was taking care of her pretty much around the clock, I had just started a new job and was learning my way around a real messed-up corporate culture and the Prince was a very active two-year old. On top of this, I was trying to finish out the unfinished second floor of our house, and we were dirt poor. Getting better, but still poor.
Looking back on it, I think the couple of hours together in the Maternity ward at West Jersey Hospital were the longest we had been together in about a year. A year that had so much going on that I can't even remember everything that happened. I remember Number two though, that's the best part.
Incedentally, here's a before and after shot of the exterior of the McMahonsion.