Happy 14th birthday Ariana Corrin !

June 5th, 1995. Ogden, Ut.
It was a cold and blizzardy day. No, really. It was.
After 9 months of waddling around wearing Dave's clothes, it was time.
About 1pm I started having serious contractions.
Not like the Braxton-Hicks I had been having for days.
Luckily my mommy and daddy got there just in time.
Or they would have missed all the fun.
We called Dave at work to tell him to get his butt home.
We all go to the hospital. I'm trying to breath.
My personal delivery room was wonderful. It was like a bedroom.
Decorated all homey and comforting. Even a place for Dave to sleep.
I was planning on having her natural.
I took no prenatal classes nor did I watch and instructional videos on what to do.
I didn't need to. Women do this naturally every day.
Have been since the beginning of time. I can too, right?
WRONG. What the hell was I thinking?
I took the jacuzzi bath. I walked as advised hoping to ease the pain.
3 major contractions later and I'm BEGGING for an epidural.
What a wuss.
The lady in the room right next to me was dying. A slow, excruciating, tortured death.
I was pretty sure of it. Apparently she got there too late for the epidural.
Lucky me. I got there just in time.
I remember the look on Dave's face when the Anesthesiologist pulled out the needle
to shove into my spine. He said to me "Oh boy. Be glad you can't see this needle".
Contraction. Needle. Screaming. And then everything in the world was right again.
They had to break my water.
The nurse reached for the overhead mirror and asked if I wanted to watch.
I declined. I'm pretty sure I said something smart-ass about it too.
I remember making jokes to the nurses in between them telling me when I was having contractions and when to push.
I thought I was so funny. I usually do.
I couldn't feel a thing. BEST TRIP EVER.
My mom and dad waited right outside my room. They could hear everything.
I could hear them talking. My dad said something to my mom like
"I don't remember labor being anything like this". I laughed and laughed.
I was thankful for the advancements in medicine.
Dave was great. Feeding me ice chips. Stroking my hair.
Pretty soon the doctor told me she was crowning.
Dave looked down and said "SHE'S GOT HAIR!"
I'm still not sure why that was important at the time. Or why he was suprised.
Then she got stuck. I couldn't push any more. I was exhausted.
It had been something like 10 hours from the time we got to the hospital until delivery.
I hadn't eaten. I was starving and dehydrated.
They had to suction her out.
If that didn't work they would have had to do an emergency C-section.
WHAT? CUT ME OPEN? That wasn't happening.
The doctor suctioned while I pushed my innerds out with every last ounce of my being.
Then I heard a cry. And I cried. Dave cried. We all freaking cried.
Even with her cone shaped, suctioned out head they tried to conceal under the knit cap..
She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in this world.
She still is. And always will be.
The day we brought her home it snowed. My father was in shock. Snow in June.
I love you Nana. Thanks for being so wonderful.
And happy birthday. Now stop growing up. Seriously. Stop.