Originally published in the Miami News-Record on December 20, 2015
In March of 2001 we moved from our 800 sq. ft. house Miami to the house on Hudson Creek. The house had three bedrooms and two living areas. We were too broke to buy another room of sitting furniture so we turned the den into a playroom for the kids. We had just enough rooms for just enough kids. We were so happy in our new house that we inadvertently gave ourselves a “housewarming present” and some time the first week of May I took that plastic stick with two pink lines on it out to where Paul was cleaning out a fencerow. He took off his hat, scratched his head and spit, then said, “First, don’t cry because it looks like you’re going to. Second, why don’t you go to that place in town and pee on one of their sticks. Just to be sure.” Their stick said the same thing: we were suddenly short one bedroom.
As you might have already figured out, in moments of extreme jubilation, crisis, life choices, parenting woes, baking conundrums, and basically every other situation, I call Mom first. Except…. she was in Europe, of all places. I called my sister and she screamed and hollered and whooped and began declaring her missive of spoiling my newest child. We were stunned, but happy. Surprised, but excited. We hadn’t discussed having any more kids, but we adjusted to the news pretty quickly and fell in love. I made an appointment with an OB and would see him in two weeks.
Then on Mother’s Day I started spotting. I called my aunt, my backup mom. “Aunt Janet, I’m pregnant….” and before I could get another word out she started congratulating. I interrupted with, “…and I’m scared. And Mom isn’t here. And I don’t know what to do.” I explained what was going on then choked back tears as she said, “Oh. I’m so sorry. You should go to the ER.” I cried through the exam. The doctor said everything looked fine, but wanted to do an ultrasound. I cried on the table in that dimly lit room until I heard the young tech say, “There it is. There’s the heartbeat.” Then Paul and I both cried.
She was due on New Year’s Day, 2002, but in true Kady fashion, tried to come early. I went into active labor and dilated to a 5 at 25 weeks. They shot me full of steroids to speed up the development of her lungs, put me on strict bedrest, told us that delivery was imminent. We managed to keep her cookin’ until December 19th when my blood pressure shot up, contractions kicked back in, and then delivery really was imminent. The next day, with no epidural and nary a Tylenol for pain, I delivered our beautiful, scowling 6 pound, 15 ounce baby girl. After her required time in the hospital nursery, they brought her back to us swaddled and smelling of Baby Magic, all snuggled down in a red Christmas stocking with two little red bows in her nearly-black hair. Our family was complete.
Before she was born, she obviously had her own ideas about time management and scheduling – and to this day, that continues. Until her 5th birthday, she burst into tears when we sang “Happy Birthday” to her. She is artistic and creative. She bakes like a champ and sings like an angel, although she won’t let too many people hear her sing. She is confident and beautiful, kind and sarcastic, blunt and truthful, and very much her own person. She talks a LOT. She loves the show “Friends”. She is perpetually clumsy. She begins conversations with strangers and isn’t afraid to tell you just how much she loves Jesus. She hates math and loves dogs. She is simply amazing.
So Happy 14th Birthday, KadyBugg. We never knew how much we needed a Kady in our lives until we had one.