It's a boy

I was going to write about why I had Andrew.
How my bad choices as a teenager made me think it was a great idea.

But after I thought about it. It's really not about all of that and I'm not so sure it has any impact on the story.

The bottom line is, I wasn't the most attractive teenager (a little on the heavy side, shaved the sides of my hair and dyed it pink.. anything to stand out).
My first two relationships were crappy I was immature and sadly selfish.
I already knew the guy that would become the father of my children. We were friends, I knew he was "safe" and after we started dating, I thought I better figure out a way to keep him.
We both still lived with our parents. I was 19, he was 17 and we both thought having a baby would make the world perfect.

Yes, at 19 (the maturity level of a 14 year old) Andrew was a choice, not a mistake.
The details that led up to that choice, don't really matter.

My mom did the greatest thing she could have done for me.
She told me that the baby and I were welcome to live at home as long as we needed to. She didn't make me pay rent or help with bills and groceries.
But what she did do, was inform me that she had raised her children and this child was mine to raise (at that point I figured it was going to be breeze). I would be responsible for child care while I worked. She would buy me a set of cloth diapers, but if I wanted disposable, that was on me.
I could breast feed for free, or I myself, could pay for formula and baby food.
She didn't do this in a callus way.. She did everything a grandmother would do that didn't live with a new mom and a baby..
She took care of us when we got home from the hospital and helped out the first few nights while I recovered. After that, I was on my own for 2am feedings, diaper changes, doing infant laundry, anything that involved meeting his basic needs.

At the time she was working 80+ hours herself and being a built in babysitter was not an option. I took a couple night classes while he was a baby, and she would watch Andrew when she could..
I had 2 gall bladder attacks within a year after Andrew was born. She fully cared for us while I was sick at home. And cared for Andrew while I was in the hospital..
She did babysit so I could go out on my 21st birthday. But she stipulated that he was all mine as soon as I got home.
Over all, she made me responsible (or rather accountable) for my actions.
I can't thank her enough for that. Although in future posts, you might see where we didn't always agree.

Back to the pregnancy (a summary because again I'm not sure it's relevant).
Fairly uneventful.
I did believe in my heart that eating for two meant I could go buck wild on some spaghetti and ice cream.. But 7 months and 65 pounds later, the doctor was none too happy with the weight gain and the gestational diabetes.
At that time Danville still had a TCBY. So I figured if I ate yogurt instead of ice cream, I was all good.. So once a day at the TCBY I got my yogurt and proceeded to load it up with cookie crumbles, hot fudge, sprinkles, and fruit (had to get something healthy on there)..

I was due May 10th, 1989.
On April 30th, I woke up because I had peed the bed. Changed the sheets and went back to sleep. Peed the bed again and thought "hmmm. bet my water broke".
Went downstairs to tell my family.
Got in the shower. Put on my make up (I would later learn this was really stupid. But I didn't know I was going to sweat and cry in childbirth).
And my mom, sister and I headed to the hospital (Jimmy would meet us there).
I was not really having contractions, so they had to examine me before they would believe I was in labor. Contractions started around 1, I started pushing around 4.

I believe we got to the hospital at about 10:30 in the morning.
Andrew James Johnson-Rollins was born at 4:58. 21.5 inches. 7 pounds 7.5 ounces.

Little did I know child birth was the easy part.

And so it begins......