Apollo's birth story

It's wierd how life just goes around in circles. 6 1/2 years ago, I was cleaning out our house in Boise, getting ready to move, while Brian squatted in our newly rented townhouse in Virginia with a blow-up mattress, a lawn chair and his computer. At least this time I am not pregnant. And Brian is living in a fully furnished (though equally sad) apartment with a new house waiting in the wings. And it was 6 1/2 years before that, that we left Boise the first time--just after Christmas, pregnant (with Tritan), to go to school in AZ. See, we just keep going in circles.
We settled down in Virginia pretty quickly. We knew we were only going to be there for 2 years, so we took advantage of the cheap transportation and free museums and went into the city often. The townhouses allowed us to make quick friends with our neighbors and I soon found myself involved in the ward, and a great Mom's group in the community.
I found a dr. right away. I didn't love him, but I didn't hate him, and after 3 kids, it didn't seem to matter anyway. I didn't find out what sex Apollo was, but I hoped he would be another girl. It just seems like good symmetry to have two of each.
He was due around Thanksgiving, so I didn't bother to make a Thanksgiving meal that year. We went down to the corner Subway and had turkey sandwiches instead.
Mom was due to fly in the next day. I started having contractions early that morning, but I laid down, hoping to postpone them til she got in. I went with Brian to pick her up--I didn't want to be alone, in case the contractions came back. Sure enough, on the ride there, the contractions came back, strong and consistent. We dropped Mom and the kids off at the house, and drove to the hospital. At least we made it in time that I could get an epidural this time, though it only half worked. It was still better than going all natural.
I think Apollo was scared to death they were going to drop him when he came out. He clung to everything he could reach. As soon as the pried the blanket or finger or whatever from his grasp, he would reach for something else. I'm not surprised that he is still deathly scared of heights.
He was beautiful--bright blue eyes, and dark hair, with just a tuft of blond over his left eye. I quickly fell in love with him--and I never regretted him not being a girl. He was my easiest baby by far. He nursed well, he was hardly ever fussy, he slept well. People assume that when I say 2 of my babies were planned, and 2 were a surprise that Apollo must have been one of the surprises--3 years after 3 kids 3 years apart (see that repetion again)--but no, I knew I wanted one more. In those crazy years of 3 babies/toddlers, my hands were more than full; they were overflowing--yet I always felt like someone was missing, and kept looking in the backseat to make sure all 3 carseats were full. (Yet who could blame me for hesitating just a little?)
Once Tritan and Athena were both in preschool, I thought, what a great time to have another baby. In 9 months, Tritan would be in kindergarden, and Paris and Athena would be in preschool and I could be alone with the baby in a way I hadn't been able to since Tritan was my one and only. I daydreamed about rocking the baby to sleep in the afternoon, drinking in all his new baby smells, for once documenting everything in a baby book...
What really happened was that Tritan ended up with afternoon kindergarten, and Athena and Paris with morning preschool. We spent most of the days driving to schools, dropping off, picking up, hurrying from one thing to the next. Apollo spent most of his naps in those wonderful convertible carseats, and my arms got buff carrying him around. They put me in as YW President 6 months after he was born, and then it seemed like Brian got to see him more than I did. I would come home from an activity and they would be watching Lost and eating Krispy Kremes.
But I also knew he was my last. I knew that our family was complete, as sure as I knew he was missing before. So whenever I got a chance, I drunk in all that good, new baby smell--from sour milk to baby powder, and held him whenever I could. Sometimes I half-wonder if his small size isn't from my sheer willpower to keep him small and cuddly forever.
And so when he wakes up with a bad dream, and asks to sleep in my bed, I let him snuggle in. When the older kids protest that I never let them do that, I shrug. I guess it's one of those things about being last...