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Nov 18

Happy Birthday to the Diva

I completely forgot to post this – but on Wednesday my Diva turned 11. I got all emo on Facebook recalling the dramatic, bloody, awful circumstances of her birth which, honestly, I remember with a kind of fondness because I was on Demerol and various other drugs (Dr. B called it Milk of Amnesia) for the 3 weeks post-emergency-C section I spent in the hospital. I know I’ve posted about it before (it’s gone now, thanks to the Great Blog Loss) but here’s a picture of all my fam/friends waiting for me to come out of the emergency hysterectomy where, apparently, I flatlined a couple of times:

That’s my late Daddy, in the white gimme cap on the far right. And that’s Marietta, my BFF of 30+ years, with the red hair and green sweater in the front.

Here’s me and Diva in the hospital a few days later (I think – time is fuzzy. I was in for 3 weeks, as I’ve said, but I remember it as only 3 or 4 days):

 

That’s Hub and his Sister with us.

 

(I swear I won’t do this every Nov. — it just gets me sometimes.)

Like I said, I don’t remember my time in the hospital with sadness or pain or anything. By the time I realized how close I came to dying, I was already recovering. I wasn’t ever in real pain because of all the drugs. I really hated being on a ventilator for two weeks, especially because I wasn’t allowed to have much water (I had suffered a pregnancy-related heart failure, and I had to be on Lasik for a couple weeks to get all the excess water off, so they restricted my water intake to tiny little chips of ice administered on a sponge. Awful.)

As I’ve mentioned before, with great pride, and repeat here again: even on a ventilator, with a great big tube down my throat and into my lungs, I STILL MANAGED TO TALK. No one understood what the hell I was saying, but that didn’t stop me.

At one point in the hospital I got MRSA – hospitals are an excellent place to get it, BTW. And we were very, very lucky because, before we realized or understood what MRSA was, my folks brought Diva up to the hospital and Hub brought her into the room to see me. (She’d gone home a week after she was born.) The doctor FREAKED, and with good reason. I didn’t get to see her again until I went home a week later.

So anyway. Eleven years later she’s a healthy pain in the ass and she had a slumber party on Friday night. (I only allow one slumber party a year. They’re that bad.)

I love her friends – they have little bitty drama stuff but no big fights or cap-G, cap-D Girl Drama. They bounced on the trampoline, screamed for no reason, watched TV, fell asleep whenever and wherever (I went to bed long before then.)

I forgot to take pictures during the party, but I snapped one the next day:

J is one of my favorites of Diva’s friends. She ALWAYS falls asleep before midnight.

Honda obviously stayed up too late.

She had a good birthday, raked in a bunch of money in gift cards, bought herself a Razer scooter.

And now it’s on to Thanksgiving. The next four to six weeks are my favorite of the year, and I try to take them slowly so I don’t miss anything.

She still calls me Mommy and wants to be hugged a lot. Wonder how long that’s gonna last…

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