I’ve set an alarm just once in the past year. Every other morning Tom and I wake up when David starts making pterodactyl noises in his crib. Tom is always uncharacteristically optimistic early in the morning and says, “Maybe he’ll go back to sleep.” But David never goes back to sleep. One of us (usually Tom) rises from bed to get our early bird while the other (usually me) indulges in just a few more minutes of sleep.
But this morning Tom was getting out of the shower when David woke up, and he rushed into his room. And as soon as I heard David’s door open I jumped out of bed, “TOM! I wanted us to get him together!”
Because today is different than every other day. Today is David’s birthday.
Last year on this day my water broke at 4:30 a.m. Contractions hadn’t started, but since I had passed my due date the on-call doctor encouraged me to come in.
Around 7 a.m. Tom went to the cafeteria and got breakfast, a beautiful biscuit with two fried eggs, bacon and cheese. I just watched him eat because ladies in labor aren’t supposed to eat. My stomach grumbled as he crunched the bacon and cheese oozed from the bread, but I wasn’t jealous because I was in labor, and if having a baby meant foregoing a freshly made egg biscuit, then I was ok with that.
Then around 8 a.m. my doctor came in and examined me. He said I could go home if I wanted because I wasn’t really in labor yet.
Um. Excuse me?
Just picture that scene for a moment. I was sitting in a hospital gown in the labor and delivery unit, I was 41 weeks pregnant, my water had broken and I’d been up since 4:30 a.m.
It’s dangerous telling someone in those circumstance that they aren’t in labor. But this is how I know my doctor is an experience professional: As soon as he told me I wasn’t in labor, he told me I could go get breakfast.
BREAKFAST! A biscuit with two fried eggs, bacon, and cheese!
David was born at 6:39 p.m., and for the 8 hours leading up to his birth I regretted the biscuit in increasing intervals. But, wow, it was a delicious decision in the moment.
To celebrate David’s birthday, we went back to the hospital and had breakfast biscuits. (They’re that good.)
This had six pieces of bacon on it. Six. We counted.
I got the bagel, Tom got the biscuit.
And unlike last year, David shared my bagel. Well, I guess he shared with me last year, too. But this time he was sitting in a highchair, fascinated by all the activity going on around us.
After breakfast we went up to the nursery and looked at all the new babies. It was extra special because one of our friends just had a brand new baby boy and we got to see him.
All morning I gave Tom a hard time for being overly sentimental. After all, the hospital breakfast was his idea. And so was visiting the nursery.
But it was a great idea. Maybe it’ll be a tradition?
Family birthday breakfast at the hospital. So sentimental. Plus, I challenge anyone to find a better breakfast biscuit for under $3.
And you know what they say: you can’t beat the ambience in the hospital cafeteria.
Let the birthday festivities begin.