You have been my most unexpected blessing, the most perfect completion to our family. We are almost 5 months out from your birth. While I was unable to write you before birth, or even immediately after, I still want to document this time for you as best I can. Here is your birth story as I remember it today.
Learning of your impending arrival, and your due date being on your brother's birthday, we knew that we would schedule your birthday early. I was a nervous wreck before your birth. Having gone through that twice prior, I knew exactly (or basically) what I was in for in terms of physical recovery. I also had two older children who were dealing with lots of changes in the weeks prior: your brother started kindergarten, your sister started a new preschool. We had spent August all together, traipsing to the pool and going on hikes. September arrived and you were so near and so much change was to come. I struggled with knowing how I would care for them through so many transitions at once, all while physically recovering and taking care of you.
Your grandma and pop-pop arrived two days before your birth. I was still anxious, writing down the daily routine for them, praying that all would go well for everyone. On Monday morning, Dad and I woke early, drove to the hospital and checked in to a dimly lit Labor and Delivery Ward. I remember the peace of the place standing in stark contrast to the turmoil I was going through internally. I passed out upon the first draw of blood, but luckily the surgery proceeded rather smoothly. You were born on September 28 (at 39 weeks 1 day gestation) with little fanfare, little noise. The relative peacefulness with which you entered the world has dominated your temperament. While your sister entered the world screaming before she was truly separate from me, I knew you had been born before I heard you. I felt you become separate from me and the tears were immediate. You would be my last baby, and you have allowed me to enjoy all these passings (that are entirely mine) with a quietness and gentleness and grace.
You were the most peaceful newborn. You never cried, except when cold or poked by nurses, rather you would quietly fuss for some formula or a clean diaper. You ate well, you slept well, you were a healthy 8lb 1oz little guy. This all ended up being another godsend given that I spiked a fever and was generally struggling to recover physically. Your brother and sister were brought to meet you later on your birthday by grandparents. From the moment they laid eyes on you, they were smitten. And since then your sister, especially, has been all up in your business! She wants to hold you, feed you, play with you, sing to you, kiss you endlessly. Your brother was fascinated with your ears in those early days; "his ears are so tiny," and it took him a day or two to remember your name. But he has loved seeing you become your own little person in the past month or so. He makes silly faces to see if he can get you to laugh. And when you do? Oh buddy, you both light up.
I realize this birth story is lacking in some detail, especially when compared to your older siblings. But here's the thing: after all the anxious buildup, all the anticipation, you have joined our family with such ease, with such a sense of "how could you have not been with us all along?" It's hard to remember a time when you weren't a part of us. Your birth has changed in me in ways I never expected. Your arrival has made me more content, more settled in who I am as a mother. You have allowed me to truly appreciate the here-and-now. I know how fast this time, this life, passes. I quietly grieve and rejoice with each passing day.
We really lucked out on having you join our family - all four of us are so in love with you. Welcome to our crazy, kid!!
Love,
Mama
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