A wonderful and dear friend of mine just welcomed her third grandbaby. He just missed my birthday by about twelve hours, but I ain’t mad. I’m just happy everything turned out well and that mother and baby are doing fine. GO SISSA!

Anyway, the little buggah was delivered by C-section, and it took me back to my first baby and the birth of my grandbaby. I was struck by something my daughter said to me — during her pregnancy, her health care providers asked her to make a birth plan. She said, what’s the use of that? She was right, as it turns out, because my grandbaby was also delivered by C-section. My first labor was intense and wrought with problems, but by the time they decided they should have performed a C-section, it was too late, and my son was delivered with high forceps. Yeah, ouch. (Like you EVER forget. Not bloody likely.)

See, you can plan. You can take your prenatal vitamins, get regular check-ups, watch your diet, but when it comes to the delivery, all bets are off. It’s like Mother Nature says, “Look, bitch, you ain’t in charge of this rodeo,” and she’s correct. However, it seems to me that C-sections are almost the norm rather than the exception these days, and that’s rather disturbing, don’t you think?

Actually, I have to say, my daughter did have a plan. Her plan was to come out of the hospital with a healthy baby. Mission accomplished. Same with Sissa, and for that, I’m happy.

Welcome, Jordan Christopher, even though you missed my birthday. Heh