Yoda arrived in this world eight years ago today on his exact due date.  Its nice to be punctual when starting out.

Bashert and I had just reached a song we knew during a PBS special on Elton John.  There we were humming along with Sir Elton and BAM! Bashert exclaims, “I think my water just broke!”

In all my worldly wisdom, I replied, “Get off the couch.”

I can be so compassionate at times.

We got her up and moving toward the door calling to NeNé to come on down, it was time to go to the hospital.

As we got to the door, Bashert stopped, gripped the door frame and said she didn’t think she could do this. I said it was a little late for that now.  She grimaced and said that she meant walking to the car.

We managed to get to the car and sped off to the hospital, which was all of five minutes away.  I dropped the two of them off at the front door and went to park the car.  I think I broke my own speed record running back into the hospital (this was before the Plantar’s Fasciitis set in and I could still run).

The triage nurse wasn’t too on the ball.  She got confused between Bashert and some chickie who thought her water had broken.  Triage Nurse wasn’t too helpful in calming Bashert down either, she wanted to explain procedural methods. Not a good idea.

You see, Bashert wanted that epidural right away.  She introduced herself in the hospital as, “Hi, my name is Epidural Now.”  Triage Nurse didn’t read people very well.

We asked when the doctor would be there.

Turns out as is usually the case, our doctor was not on call that night.  We joked that we would get some dashingly handsome male doctor, whom all the nurses swoon over.

We got exactly that.  Bashert groaned, but he was right on top of things, basically ignoring Triage Nurse and calming Bashert at the same time.

After the initial prep, we were shown to the ‘birthing room’.  The room made up to look artificially cozy and comfortable where Yoda was to be born.  NeNé claimed the couch and began dozing. It was getting pretty late into the night by then.

The anesthesiologist couldn’t arrive fast enough.  Bashert kept asking every ten minutes as to where he was.  She got rather insistent that I question the staff, so I went out in the hall and pretended to speak with the nurse.  It calmed me and placated her.

When the anesthesiologist finally arrived we all rejoiced. Then he and I spent the entire time he was administering the manna from heaven trying to come up with from where we knew each other.  We never did figure it out.

Bashert floated into a wonderful la-la land.  NeNé fell asleep on the couch and I maintained a half sleep/half vigilance state next to the bed.

Around 6:45am we realized that it was time for the shift change.

Into the room walked a woman with long blonde hair and a fully made up face. Great, our child was being delivered by Ken and Barbie.

Surprisingly, Barbie turned out to be very capable and competent. She guided Bashert through the delivery with great understanding and confidence.

Yoda gave us a couple of little scares when he finally came out.  First, meconium accompanied him on his way out and the doctor was afraid that Yoda might have aspirated some during the delivery process and second the umbilical cord had wrapped itself around Yoda’s neck several times.

One would think that would have prevented him from aspirating anything, but they had to make sure.  So, when the doctor cut the cord, the nurses whisked him away to verify all was clear.

I knew all was good when the nurse joked that she couldn’t put a diaper on the kid because he kept pooping.  She’d get him cleaned up and there he’d go again.

When Yoda was placed in our arms for the first time, we didn’t see all the marks his travel to us had brought – scraped cheeks, bruised eyes and fat lip.  All we saw was a remarkable little boy, who vaguely resembled Curious George and sent our hearts to the clouds.  I don’t think we’ve come out of them since.

NeNé snapped a picture of us at that exact moment. Yoda’s World Premiere, 10 August 2003.

Happy Birthday, Potato!