Your birthday started at 7:30 am: I had just gotten out of bed and my water broke by this time I was 2weeks late. I was over the moon ready to meet you. I dressed and we arrived at the hospital at 8:30am where a nurse took your father and me to the 5th floor, which was Maternity at DPH. The nurse asked me if I was having contractions - I lied telling her that I was well on my way I because I didn’t want to go home. The morning was relatively quiet, we had spent the last week walking around Grammies neighborhood, then going over railroad tracks and going on bumpy roads trying to get you to deliver. We had been out the night before at the movies watching “The China Syndrome” then we stopped into the Villa for a drink, which I am sure, was soda for me. Around noon Dr Georgie came in and examined me he said it would be several more hours and that he was heading over to Williamsport Hospital but by the time he finished his rounds and made it to the hospital exit the nurses were calling him back. In fewer than fifteen minutes, I went from relaxing to needing to push. Now I was talking to your Dad saying, “I can’t take anymore of this pain” at the same time grabbing the green doctor’s scrub shirt, he was wearing. Just rocking back and forth pulling on Dad and repeating, “I can’t take it…” At that time, I was offered and given a Demerol shot. The delivery after the severe pushing relaxed was much easier; the nurse asked if I would be naming you Patrick. He knew something I didn’t which was that you had been born on St. Patrick’s Day.
A very Happy Birthday to my best and favorite son BRIAN my 6'8" Irishman with an Italian Twist
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