November 5, 1998


I will always remember the day I went into labor with my first child.  I was only 18 years old, unmarried, and scared.  Bobby was still in the picture at that time, and I was naieve enough to believe that he would be there to help me out, that I wouldn’t have to be a parent to our baby boy, Nicholas, all on my own.  I went into labor sometime in the late morning, and my mom drove Bobby and I to St. Charles Medical Center in Bend, Oregon.  I don’t remember much after that (labor pains have a way of making a person unable to focus on anything else except for that pain) until I had been in labor for multiple hours and still hadn’t dialated past 4 centimeters.  I was begging for an epidural at that point, and after getting one, things started progressing more quickly.  My beautiful tow-headed son was born at 4:08 a.m. on November 6th.  All the nurses agreed that he was the cutest baby ever born in that hospital, and it snowed for the first time of the year on that day.  How was I to know that my life would forever be changed from that day on?

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