Seven years ago I was a 37 week pregnant woman. No kids to chase around, no job--I'd left in early January--and plenty of time on my hands. It seems like an eternity ago--yet I can practically taste the ice cream sundaes Hubby used to bring me home nightly. (He knew better than to come home empty handed, after all.)
Fast forward to today--an almost 7 year old, star of First Grade, holder of my heart. How does that happen? How does time DO that?
The snow began falling on Valentine's day that year. I remember the day well. It was a Friday and I emailed Hubby a list of necessities for both our house and our elderly neighbor. I am pretty sure her list contained tea bags, twinkies, and soup. I'm sure ours contained Coca Cola and Fritos--these two things have sustained me through all my pregnancies. The forecast looked like it could be a doosy. Family members were nervous. Hubby was panicked I would go into labor. I was convinced, of course, that I wouldn't go into labor. (just a few weeks prior when told that I had made no "progress" at my internal exam I declared to Hubby that he must take down the crib because the baby "simply wasn't coming")
I had just, the day before, had a pedicure and manicure. What a treat--yet what a chore--it was to climb into that big, soft, vibrating chair. I can still feel the hot and bubbly water around my fat ankles.
With the snow already falling we decided I should rest a lot, not move around, not walk around too much. I made a comfy bed for myself on our leather sofa, and gathered around me pillows, blankets, and some precious novels. (Anita Shreve's Eden Close & Strange Fits of Passion) I devoured the books, one on Saturday and one on Sunday. I am sure they have splashes of Coke and crumbs of Frito within their pages to this day. Chocolate too. I was big on the chocolate.
The snow came down. Fast. Deep.
Hubby, wonderful man that he is, kept up with the shoveling. I have pictures of him outside our old house on Willoughby Road, standing proudly (he would debate this fact) by his shovel. You can just barely make out our Chevy Blazer behind him. On Sunday I ventured out to the porch in my Old Navy Maternity coat and trusty blue hat. Despite the coat's girth--my own couldn't be buttoned in. All was white in Parkville that day.
The evening was quiet, I forget what time we went to bed.
By 7:30 A.M. or so I was on the phone with my OB/GYN. There was only about 2' of snow. Yeah--2'!! I calmly got myself together, Hubby showered, shoveled, showered (yes--you read that right--2 showers) and we set about on our journey to parenthood. What typically would have been a 10 minute drive on a holiday Monday (President's Day) took us about 45 minutes. I-695 was down to one driveable lane. We made it though, safe and sound.
This was about 10:30 A.M and by 3:30 P.M. I was holding my sweet baby girl. My BIG baby girl--she would be the biggest baby I would give birth to at a whopping 8lbs 14.2 oz.
As the snow continues to fall out there tonight--and with a forecast for much more this coming weekend--my mind goes back to that wonderful time back in 2003. I've lived a lifetime since then, but a simple snowfall can take me back.
Different house now, same wonderful Hubby, three kids, and complete chaos. Life, as the saying goes, is good.
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