Our youngest son celebrated his tenth birthday
yesterday. Wow. That’s a decade. I’ve had him for a third of my life. I’ve had
him almost as long as I’ve had his daddy.
I found out I was pregnant when I was 19…had him when I was 20.
Bless his heart…thankful he didn’t know how incompetent I was and grateful God equipped
me for the job. I loved him long before
his arrival, but I also loved Mexican food and loaded baked potatoes. My pre-pregnancy weight was a healthy 155
pounds for this 5 foot 8 inch girl. I was determined I wouldn’t let myself
creep into the dreaded 200s. (I feel a need to clarify…when I say “I was
determined” I mean he needed to come out just about the time I was 199 pounds because
I wasn’t letting up on the Mexican food and potatoes until I no longer had a
human taking residence in my body.
I went in for a scheduled doctor’s appointment on a Monday
which also happened to be 3 days past my due date. For any medical personnel
not to induce labor that day would have been a rotten, most torturous form of
cruelty. Good news…they sent me to the ER to be admitted for a routine
induction and delivery. Bad news…the scale read 201. So close!
I can’t help but think a good sturdy movement would have made all the
difference that day. They dressed me in
an ever-so trendy hospital gown and started the meds around 3pm that afternoon.
Shooting for a right-on-time due date delivery of August 27,
my dad was one of the most excited to get word that the preparations were being
made to get this show on the road. You
might assume the excitement stemmed from the upcoming delivery of his first
biological grandchild, but you would be wrong.
You see, dove hunting season in Texas begins on September 1st.
In my lifetime, I can’t remember a close
of August that didn’t include my dad preparing and departing for west Texas.
This year was no different. Although he
was packed and ready, he couldn’t leave without seeing his namesake come into
the world. (If it had come to a
September 1st delivery, I can’t say for certain that he would have
hung around for the affair.) Finally, after a very long night and lots of pain
management approaches to remedy my discomfort (or the discomfort to those in
the area) Justin Zane Matejka made his arrival at 7:20am on August 31, 2004.
Dad was there, not in the room of course, but nearby so he was able to see Baby
Zane (As so many called him for the first few years of his life), go home to
shower and load the truck, then stop by the hospital for one last look and
visit before the season opened the following day.
Fast forward ten years to yesterday. I packed a bag of camo garb,
socks and a toothbrush, and sent him off in a very similar red truck that my
dad traveled in the day he was born. At 9am on the day he turned 10 he left
with his “Z” for the same kind of trip my dad has taken for countless hunting
seasons. I am so thankful that he has the passion for life, family and hunting
that comes straight from my dad. I am even more thankful that he can have that
same passion for hard work, a good dog and his momma that was inherited from his
dad, Ole Jus.
I grew him in my belly and now he is TEN…FROM THIS SIDE OF
THIRTY.
11 dove on opening morning. Not bad for a 10 year old.
Must be in his blood.
