Snow Baby

Today is the birthday of my fourth child, and one of our family traditions is telling the story of that child’s birth on their birthday. So, buckle up, because here we go.

When it came time to have baby #4, I decided to skip the epidural. The ones for my first three kids had barely worked, so I thought, Why bother? I was strong. I could do this.

Spoiler alert: a half-working epidural is still a whole lot better than no epidural.

When it came time to push, I unleashed primal screams so intense I’m sure I summoned the ancestors. I’m talking noises I didn’t even know my body could make. The whole hospital probably thought something prehistoric had broken loose.

The next day, I was blissfully snuggled up with my new little bundle, relishing the peace and quiet. While some moms can’t wait to leave the hospital, I was living my best life. It was like a mini vacation—except with way less sleep, more ice packs, and nurses coming in all night to check my vitals.

Meanwhile, my husband and mother-in-law were back home wrangling a five-year-old, a four-year-old, and a two-year-old. So yeah, I was in no rush to leave. I would have happily stayed there forever.

And then I got my wish.

That night, a snowstorm hit, and by morning, we had 22 inches of snow. Now, we’re used to snow in Pittsburgh, but not like that. To top it off, the power went out.

Back home, my husband and the kids were huddled under piles of blankets, while baby #4 and I stayed cozy at the hospital, thanks to backup generators. We had heat, but the hospital was basically in survival mode. Nurses were stuck doing double shifts, and the kitchen staff couldn’t get in. No food until late in the day.

But I wasn’t fazed. I had a book, snacks, and my sweet little baby. Life was good.

When my husband emailed his director about the birth, the director’s only response was, “Snow baby.” And just like that, baby #4 earned his nickname.

So, happy birthday to my Snow Baby. May your life be as memorable as your arrival.