Thursday, September 3, 2009
(I hate that stupid pug pillow and every time I try to get rid of it or move it elsewhere, Shane revolts. Sigh.)
Shane is still working on Tommy's birth story (or he hasn't started yet, tomato, tomahto), but lately, Luke and I have been talking more and more about the night Tommy was born. Right after it happened, Luke wouldn't talk about it, to the point where I thought he just didn't get any of it. I think that he was just so overwhelmed by everything that happened that he couldn't put it into words.
Luke can't type, so I'm transcribing for him! He told me that first, I played on the pink basketball. Very true, as before he went to bed, I was bouncing on my pink birth ball. He kept pushing me off and saying it was his turn. Then he told me that I was loud and woke him up but "you didn't have baby yet, no," and it was very dark. Next he told me that mama had ouchies, then he saw Tommy's head and then his baby brother or sister (he still says that sometimes, after spending nine months saying that he was having a baby brother or sister) was here. After that the firemen came in the big red truck and the yellow clothes because "firemen help people." Mommy went in the little red truck (the ambulance) and Grammy brought Luke in to see mama and baby. After that, Luke rode in Mommy's blue car with Daddy and Papa (side note: my dad drove because Shane was so flustered that he tried to put Luke in Tommy's carseat, ha!) to the hospital where all the other babies had hats. So far, the story ends with him saying that he held Tommy. Oh, and sometimes he asks where all the other babies went, referring to the babies he saw in the nursery. We tell them they went home with their mommys and daddys, and he says they must be happy. I tell him they are, but not as happy as he and Tommy are.
I love his version of Tommy's birth so much that we talk about it every single day.