To My Baby Boy

     Nine years ago today, I checked into the hospital to be induced with my tenth and last baby. To their surprise he had flipped since my doctors appointment just the day before and was now breech. They wanted to do a C-section. I told them I didn't really need a c-section since I had already had nine babies and I could push this one out just fine. They wouldn't hear of it, so to surgery I went.
     By the time they cut me open, he was on his return lap and was head down again. C-section for nothing.
     The strangest thing about the whole experience was Scot was born during one of the worst fire seasons California had seen. "Firestorm 2003!!!" the news anchors would say dramatically, as if it was the end of the world. And it was bad. There were fires they couldn't stop and they burned all the way to the ocean. Hundreds of homes were lost state wide, it was devastating.
     So there I am in the hospital, sore from surgery, and outside my window the sky was dark orange from all the smoke. I was due to go home and then the infection set in. Those few extra days in the hospital happened to be when the time change occurred. When I did come home, it was like coming home to the apocalypse. It was four in the afternoon and the sky had this dark orange glow and it was raining ash. I will never forget it.
     Happy Birthday to my baby boy, Scot Thomas. I love you.