Let's talk numbers

26 ceiling tiles.
4 flourescent ceiling lights.
1 sprinkler.
1 fire alarm.
1 thing that looked like a red plastic light in case of emergency....?

That's all I had to focus on for 4 hours after your birth, not even knowing if you'd survived the trauma of us separating.

But hey, for the sake of keeping the record straight, here are some other numbers.

1. Amount of times I've rode in an ambulance, all thanks to you Little Man :) Gonna be paying that shit off until you graduate high school.

2: Amount of times my stomach was brutally smashed on to force my uterus to drain (after your birth)  while I was still numb. There were roughly 20 more painful smashes after feeling slowly returned to my body. Holy Shit, OW.

3. THREE DAYS. THREE WHOLE MOTHER FUCKING DAYS. THREE BRUTALLY LONG DAYS before your daddy was allowed to get me out of UW so I could FINALLY see your precious face. I should've been up and twirling a baton within hours of your birth.

4. Amount of minutes it took my mom on the phone to believe me that I was pregnant. I've called her April 1st every year for yearsss to pull that prank on her, and when I called her mid April of 2012, she thought I was doing it again, until I started crying.

5. Five different doctors/hospitals. Goodness, Son, you sure did require a lot of coordinating to get here!

6. Six weeks before an ultrasound tech proved your existance, and printed out photos for me to send to Grandpa Floyd.

7.  Seven positive pregnancy tests before I believed this was real.

8. Eight times that Children's Hospital literally told me to not be in labor.

9. Nine months. Nine whole months that you and I were fused as one.

234972394729879613249: Amount of times I would go through it all again if it meant you'd come home safely.