Fifteen years ago today I gave birth to a seven pound five ounce baby boy. We named him Austin Bernard. Austin after…yes, you guessed it, Austin Powers, the movie, and Bernard after his paternal grandfather who had passed away only two weeks before his birth.
Austin was born two weeks early, but only because I told my doctor that I didn’t want to be pregnant anymore and since my doctor was the coolest doctor E-V-E-R and I hated being pregnant, she induced me on purpose. I’m sure they don’t do that anymore because insurance companies suck now-a-days.
It turned out that my prophecy was accurate and Austin was even more active after birth than he was while in my stomach. The baby didn’t sleep and he became colicky at three weeks old. I thought I was going to end up in a rubber room. There were days when I didn’t have time to get dressed and my husband would find me, in my robe, sitting in the front yard crying while Austin was in his crib—crying.
Years went by and Austin had birthday parties and his fifth birthday invitation read:
Austin’s five and we’re still alive
Every child has qualities of his parents and Austin isn’t any different. I see his dad and me in so much of what he says and does. There are times, truth be told, when I cringe, but mostly I beam with pride.
He’s extremely intelligent, with an above average IQ and carrying a 4.0 grade average without breaking a sweat. He’s inquisitive, creative, kind and funny. He’s also obstinate, stubborn and at times impulsive. All rolled into one, he’s a terrific kid. A son that I’m proud to call my own and one I love with all my heart.
Happy Birthday my dear Austin. The world is a much better place since I brought you into it fifteen years ago.