How has it almost been a year since you joined our family? It was like I blinked and just yesterday I was back at the doctors’ office, sitting impatiently waiting to go back to work while the doctor reviewed the ultrasound screen. I looked over at your dad and he smiled at me, trying to calm my nerves.
This pregnancy had been vastly different from when I was pregnant with my first. From the second that I found out that you were coming, I knew you were a boy. Days later, the infamous sickness started and this time, it didn’t go away when I stuffed my face with chicken biscuits from Chick-fil-A.
Three weeks before you arrived you weighed in at about 5 lbs. I was thrilled! You were growing … you were due to arrive in six and a half more weeks. I knew you were going to be between 7-8 lbs, just like your sister. And I knew you were going to look just like me.
I was tired. I was in pain. I was miserable. On a daily basis, I didn’t know how much more I could take. I knew this feeling – the feeling that we were so close to the end, but still needed to press on for a few more weeks.
On the following visits, you weren’t measuring much bigger and I was concerned. I voiced the concern to my doctor and he told me not to worry – but to ease my fears, he scheduled a thorough ultrasound. I asked your dad to meet me at the appointment and he assured me that all would be fine.
All of my confidence was shaken when the doctor walked back into the room with a big smile saying, “So, you want to have a baby tomorrow?”
And he was being serious.
My blood pressure was elevated; you weren’t measuring any bigger, and at 37 weeks and 3 days it was your time to arrive. I remember the night before I was going to meet you. I sobbed with your sister in my arms as we read “Brown Bear.”
I was terrified. I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect.
And the next morning, I wore a full face of make-up and a cute outfit and decided to be positive about the whole experience. One way or another I was planning to have a baby boy and I would do whatever it took to get him here in a healthy manner.
About seven hours later you were in my arms. You laid on my chest for my body heat to transfer to yours. I felt at peace with you being out of my belly and in my arms. It was serene and peaceful and I felt so very confident in my ability to mother you.
This past year I have learned what it means to literally split myself in two. It has been difficult at times. Well, that’s putting it mildly. There were moments I didn’t think I could go on. You and your sister would be crying for me at the same exact time and I didn’t know which one to choose. Or moments where I was so sleep deprived that all I could do was sit on the floor. I know that sounds weird, right? It was weird. Everything about the first nine months of your life was weird.
You were the stereotypical second child. Your dad and I were barely sleeping through the night when you came along, so with exhaustion came things like getting a bottle at a month old – so mommy could have a glass of wine and a little break. You were allowed to eat fruit loops, not just organic veggie puffs. You were given all of your sisters’ toys – even if they were pink.
Now that you are a toddling 25 lb. little boy about to turn one, I can sigh with a deeply satisfied smile. You still love to cuddle and I revel in the feeling of you burying your chubby cheeks in my neck. I am soaking in the fact that you are my last baby and not rushing any milestones. I’m letting them happen when you are ready. Just as when you arrived.
Happy birthday, baby boy.