Actually, he really shouldn't be Pablo. Pablo freaks out too easily and my Pablo does not freak out very easily, though he gets hurt very easily. (He's very off schedule right now and so the tears come much more quickly.)

7 years ago Pablo entered this world. We were living in Oregon at the time and I was away from family and friends.

The story of Pablo starts by us deciding that it's time to have another child. In my world, that means I'll be pregnant within one full cycle. And I was. For the first trimester I threw up every morning first thing. I'd take a drink of orange juice, throw it up, and then eat breakfast and be fine for the rest of the day. (How I still like orange juice is beyond me!) Faramir was not entirely convinced that my body was actually doing this to me. He wondered if I was doing this to myself because I was in a new place, with new friends and nothing else to do. I wondered if he was right because I had never had that problem before(and I didn't for Tyrone either).

But even if my vomiting was in my head, what happened my second trimester wasn't. I got a rash. I was covered in hives from my neck to my knees. It was a big, ugly, itchy rash. I ran around in long sleeves and pants because I didn't want people to have to look at it. Thankfully this was from about January to March so I wasn't dying with my long sleeves on.

I took four Benedryl every four hours and it didn't touch it. I went on steroids. Nothing changed. Finally, the dr. looked at me and said, "I think you are allergic to your pregnancy. There's nothing we can do, so. . .good luck with that." No--he didn't really say that, but that was the jist of it.

So I itched for three months straight. I stopped wearing bras unless absolutely necessary. When at home I wore loose jammies. I put on some crazy lotions to help fight the itch, but nothing really helped. Not until towards the end of my pregnancy, actually. It was the worst in my second trimester but even to this day I feel the effects of that. I have a tendency to break out in a rash at seemingly random times, and while those breakouts are never as bad as the original, they still happen.

I had a DO with Pablo. He was a very quiet man. Very forgettable, actually. He was very kind and capable, but so very quiet. (Sadly, just a few years after I had Pablo, he lost his license and was forced to close his doors.)

With Kendra and Seth, the names were difficult. We went back and forth and ultimately Brad won both of those battles. I named Pablo and Tyrone and both of them had their names by about the 5-months-pregnant mark.

Hrm. Labor and Delivery. My DO had told me he was going to induce me on January 1, one day before my due date (which made another lady in my ward very angry because she was a week over I think, and he wouldn't induce her).

For a full week before Pablo was born I had contractions. Sometimes they were mild. Sometimes they were horrible. But they happened, and my lovely body did nothing.

For a week.

Finally, on June 30 at about 10:00 pm, I lost my mucous plug and my contractions kicked in hugely, so I called my emergency plan and wandered off to the hospital. . .in time for my contractions to stop. I walked the hallways. I sat on a big ball the size of me and rolled around. We tried every trick in the book to get me going again and nothing happened.

The maternity ward was kind. They didn't have very many people there and they knew I was scheduled for induction the next day, so they didn't send me home. And so, for the third (and not final) time, I was induced.

Truthfully, when I think about my sisters and me, I think that we are the types that may have died in childbirth in the old days. I'm pretty sure that none of us ever had a child that was brought in to this world without medicinal help.

My body was definitely ready. The time the Pitocin entered my body to the time of delivery was very short--just four or five hours, I think. (2 of my four times, my body took really well to being induced, like it just needed a kick start. The other two? Not so much.) (And yes, four or five hours on Pit. is short for me. Kendra and Tyrone each took 9 or 10 hours.)

He was born at 10:30 in the morning. It was kind of nice to have a day time baby, since the first two had been born at 11:30 pm and 5:30 am.

It was a quiet delivery. My DO did his capable job and left, almost without us even noticing he was there. (I actually didn't really like that--I like feeling like my Dr. has a vested interest in me.) We stayed in the hospital for our requisite day or two. And then we went home.

Pablo was my easiest nurser, which was a relief after the nursing fiasco that I had experienced with Seth. I had a great supply of milk and he learned things very quickly.

Pablo was an easy baby. He was very happy. He still is very happy. He's the kind of child that is usually found with a smile on his face. He is eager to please and enjoy life. Kendra and Seth loved him from the beginning.

I remember the burst of love for him as well. There were days when I looked at him and thought that he was so perfect that he couldn't possibly be destined to last very long in this world and that SIDS would strike quickly. I would quake in fear and Faramir would have to talk me calm.

Pablo has definitely had his share of problems. He cracked his skull when he was just over one and learning to walk, which caused us to be investigated by child and family services. He has juvenile arthritis. He has had his head stapled shut and still gets the attendant bruises and bumps and teeth that are dead because of being tripped by his brothers--all of those boy things.

There's a running joke in our family now. I should rename my boys Stitches, Staples and Glue (in that order) because they've each been seriously split open and they each had a different remedy.

But he is a joy. He is willing to do his chores. He likes to tell jokes. He loves to play with friends, brothers, whoever. He is very happy. And he's very photogenic. It's difficult to get a bad picture of Pablo.

He's 7 today.

Happy Birthday Pablo!