It was about this time

on a Friday night five years ago, when you finally started to really be born.

For three weeks, I'd gone around dilating, contracting and all sorts of fun things. Two different times I'd thought it was really labor this time, but the first round stopped after five hours and the second after eight. That January, I had been to three weddings, each time more embarrassingly dressed then the last because I refused to buy more maternity clothes and I had expanded far beyond what I ever imagined. Each individual toe was swollen so badly that I wore a pair of dirty yellow flip flops (previously saved for gardening) that entire month.

I had just finished my long last day of teaching before letting my sub take over. We were leaving Z Tejas grill after Jana *r's birthday party when I felt my first contraction. (This was especially fitting, since my first contraction of the round that went eight-hours began on the walk into her wedding.) My due date was the next day and all I had planned was to go buy new tires because I knew this baby was never, ever going to come and that I should just wait it out until my Wednesday induction date.

You still took your sweet time. Although this moment marks the beginning of that sweet and blessed final journey into becoming a mommy, it began the longest fifty-two hours of my life: the span from that first contraction to when I held you in my arms.

Happy start to your birthday, Melody Anne