it’s like picking a favorite child

Everyone has a few.

Well, my first was out of my control. I was shipped UPS-style at the age of six months, traveling internationally to meet my new family.

I still wonder if I should tattoo a bar code on the bottom of my foot with the words “Made In Korea” on the other.

Fun Fact: All photos of my airport arrival had a gift shop in the background. The top of each photograph said, “Tax and Duty Free.”  My mother claims this was a major false advertisement on the adoption agency’s part, and demands a refund from them.  If I can find the photo, I’ll post it.

Another was betting on my future by not applying to the UW.

Besides, as a very strong, high B-average student, I doubt my GPA would have gotten me in.

Letting go of the past and opening my heart to Pilot.

One of the best decisions ever.  I finally have someone who will attend hockey games with me and thinks my ridiculousness is “cute.” I would prefer he had said something more along the lines of “genius,” “trendsetting,” or “Pulitzer-worthy,” but hey, you can only ask for so much, right?

The night my dad passed away.

I can only hope that I bring a small amount of happiness to my mom, even though I know I’ll never be enough to fill that loss.

Being diagnosed with thyroid cancer.

I’m not going to compare my lame-ass experience with those of true cancer survivors. Mine was caught very early, thanks to a great doc and new technology. I am in no way a cancer survivor. Cancer survivors are true heroes with more courage than I can imagine. I was… grazed (?) by cancer, if that makes any sense.

The day I said “Really?”  (That’s a story for another day.)

And, my absolute favorite day, and each day since then, was the day I said “I do.” (Also a story for another day.)

Aww… More sappy moments.  Are you sick of me yet?

I’ll warn you. Pilot and I are the smoochy “Bewitched”-like couple. The Samantha and Darren Stevens couple who makes everyone else want to hurl.  (Except the baby talk. I can’t stand people who “baby talk” each other. I don’t even “baby talk” babies.  Their brains are like sponges, they absorb everything. Do I really want to be responsible for the person who thinks “ga ga goo goo” is a phrase? Bitch, please.)

These are moments that not only tested me, they made me surprise myself and others.  Included in these experiences is the day I began this blog and made a dedication to myself and to you, my very precious viewers, that I would write and do everything (morally and legally) within my power to become a good, succesful, multiple-times-over published author.

What were some of your most defining moments?  The ones that pivoted your life in a new direction? How did they change you? Was it worth the change?

Daily Writing Challenge

Day 19: Today is a day that will change your characters life forever. What course of events occurs? How does your character react? Write a scene from this day.

I’m so sick of waiting…

This is terrifying…

I’m so excited…

Each of these thoughts simultaneously ran through her mind as she tapped her fingernails on oak dining room table.

“All right, honey. I have the suitcase in the car, and we’re ready to go.” Oliver stepped through archway, anticipation twinkled in his eyes.

Sylvie pushed herself up from her chair and he guided her to their sedan.  Well, here goes nothing, she thought.

As they drove down I-5, she watched the buildings sweep past her window.  In a soft voice, Oliver turned briefly to look at her.  “Now, honey everything is going to be fine,” as slipped his hand in hers.

“I know. I just don’t know what’s going to happen.  We’re as prepared as we can be, but…” she looked down at her protruding stomach.  “I’m scared.”

“Oh Sylvie, don’t worry. I’m going to be right there with you.”

At 8:03 am, Pacific Time, Sylvie was induced.

~~~

Seven hours, forty-nine minutes and eleven, now twelve, seconds later…

~~~ 

“It’s not a baby, it’s a damn elephant!” Sylvie screamed.  “Give me the epidural! I want the epidural!”

“Just two more pushes, honey!  You can do it, Sylvie!  Just breathe!”  Oliver was a pillar of calm and she wanted to deck him straight into the New Year.  Focus.  Focus on your breathing. Sylvie bit down and breathed as slowly as she could though her teeth.

“Hoo-hoo! Hee!”

She wanted to boil whoever insisted she not use painkillers. Oh wait, she convinced herself of that.  Natural is best, my ass, she thought. But her thoughts vanished as quickly as they appeared when another wave of pain shot through her body, causing her back to go into spasms unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

“It’s ok, Sylvie! You’re doing great!  Now push! Push!

“I can’t!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut.  “I can’t do this anymore! Make it stop. Oh god, make it stop!”

“Just one more push, Sylvie. You can do it,” Dr. Gustafson said encouragingly.

“Sylvie, look at me!”Oliver’s voice drifted through the waves of pain that were drowning her.

She opened eyes.  Oliver’s deep brown eyes were full of determination, compassion and love as he held her gaze.

“Honey, I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you threw that Frisbee at my face and knocked out my tooth-”  Breathe. Keep breathing.

“One more push,” Dr. Gustafson ordered.  Sylvie pushed with all of the strength she had left, which wasn’t much.

“-and I know you’re tired, and I know you want to give up, but I won’t let you.” Oliver continued to look into her eyes.  “You’re the woman who never gave up on anything. You’re a fighter! You’ve never let me win anything without a fight,-”

Sylvie screamed as the pain consumed her.  Sweat was blending with her tears now, dripping down her face.

“I can see the head,” Dr. Gustafson commanded.  “Keep pushing, Sylvie! Just one more!”

“-and I know you’re going to fight for our baby!  Don’t you want to meet our baby?”

She barely stopped herself from biting straight through her lip.

“So I know that you’re going to do this Sylvie! You’re going to push because I know you love our baby as much as I love you!”  A searing white light blinded her, tearing her in half.

Silence.

A cry pierced the air.

Sylvie slumped back against the pillow, sobbing.

“It’s a healthy baby girl!” Dr. Gustafson announced as he handed the tiny pink blob to the nurse.

“You did it, honey!” Oliver whispered as tears ran down his face.  He silenced her crying as he possessed her mouth firmly.  “She’s beautiful, Sylvie. She’s beautiful, just like you.”

The nurse handed Sylvie the tiny, crying blob, wrapped in a soft blanket and already wearing a little pink hat that was too big and came to a point at the tip.

“Oh,” Sylvie whispered.  “Oh my god.” Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the tiny face, the tiny hands and feet.  Ten little fingers. Ten little toes.

Sylvie barely heard Dr. Gustafson congratulating her Oliver.  All the noise and memory of the pain faded wayside as she looked at the face of the miniscule person screaming in her arms.

She looked wide-eyed up at Oliver.  “You’re a daddy, Ollie.”  He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.  A warm glow settled on both of them as he beamed at her.

“So what should we call her?” he asked softly, as he kissed the baby’s head.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

“No,” Oliver chuckled softly.  He kissed her again.  “That’s you.”

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