My nearly 2 yr. old son is trodding about the family room wearing his dad's size 12 Adidas tennis shoes. The tongue of the shoe comes up mid-shin on my son. He's also putting his arm down the hole of a thermal, non-skid, slipper sock. He's sucking on the other hand's thumb.
I'm having a moment.
God, I remember the pain of his birth. I had an epidural, but for some reason it didn't work. That Indian anesthesiologist was clueless. I didn't cry from the pain, nor did I scream, but I certainly was vocal and had to force myself to focus on breathing and relaxing. Of course, that didn't help alleviate anything, but it was something to pass the time.
It only lasted a half hour, maybe an hour tops. They turned the lights down during the birth, except for the big spotlight illuminating everything private. That kid's head was ginormous. Most of the pushing was to get his big ol' head out. As soon as I'd accomplished that, everything felt different.
Euphoria. That's what it was. I was swooning, the pain was GONE, and we had our little boy in our lives. He was smushy faced and chubby. My daughter was brought back into the room, and she developed the bond with him right then. She held him and loved him and was SO sweet.
Here's a pic capturing those moments, and who the H cares if I look crappy. I just gave birth! :)