Three years ago today I went to my obstetrician feeling fairly certain that I was in labor with Mr Butler. He wasn't due to be born for another 3 1/2 weeks. And once the doctor confirmed that 12/29/10 would be Mr Butler's birthday she told me not to worry; the risks of being born at that stage were minimal, but I should be aware that I'd probably be having my first small baby.
A few hours later, as the moment approached, doctors and nurses started streaming into the delivery room to attend the birth of my sure-to-be-tiny late-term preemie, each announcing his or her specialty. Cardiac Team. Pulmonary Team. Neonatal Team. Within a few minutes, a seven-pound-twelve-ounce Mr Butler came screaming into the world. And while I don't remember this, I'm told that my first words upon his birth were, "The pulmonary team can leave."
And three years later, he's still barreling and screaming his way through life each and every day!
Happy Birthday Mr Butler!
