However, I knew that he wasn’t really ready to be born. You see, I knew the date I got pregnant (July 14), just as I’d known the date I got pregnant with Jordan (June 5). I went a full nine months to the day with Jordan so could reasonably expect to do much the same with Ben. That would put my due date around April 14. But I’d had an ultrasound to determine fetal age about halfway through my pregnancy with Ben, and based on fetal head size*, it indicated I was further along than that. So all the dates were shifted; my due date was moved to the end of March and the c-section was scheduled for March 14.
I briefly argued with the changed due date, telling anyone who would listen that I was due the middle of April, but remember I was young—just 23—and used to obeying orders from having been in the military. And the fetal head size indicated I was wrong. So Ben was born March 14 around 8:30 AM.
He was premature. He looked dreadful (my dad said he was an ugly little shit, and sadly that was pretty accurate), he didn’t really have much in the way of eye lashes yet and he was just super scrawny like a wizened old man (even though he weighed seven pounds, nine ounces). As my pediatrician said to me once I’d been moved back to my room, “He wasn’t quite done.” Well no, no he wasn’t.
Fortunately he experienced only minor breathing issues, some jaundice that took a couple of weeks to resolve and my goodness he slept. That baby was a sleeper. After Jordan, who never slept more than two hours straight the first six months of his life, Ben’s sleeping was a huge relief. By six months, you’d never have known he was that early—he had plump cheeks no one could resist, his eye lashes were as long as his brother’s (I’d irrationally worried about that) and he was such a snuggler. He’s that way with his own family today, and I love seeing how he is as a husband and father. It seems kind of silly to post on my blog that I’m proud of him, but it’s true and I’m glad I’m his mom.
*Turns out I have babies with big heads.