Dear John,
I am at a loss for words.
I am at a loss for words.
You are one. 365 days old. You have made our family complete. You are my big little boy. You are so very very busy. And so very very happy.
It's really hard for me to believe it's been a year. On one hand, it seems like you were a tiny baby about three weeks ago. But then it also seems like it's been an eternity since I was in that hospital room getting ready to have you. Rick and I thought and thought about it and couldn't even remember where we went for dinner the night before you were born. That's pretty lame. Of course, we might only remember the "last meal" before Annie was born because it was KFC and so incredibly random and horrible.
But I do remember that there was a large snow storm the day before we went to the hospital. And I remember your Dad went and got us all donuts (an apple fritter for me) the morning before we went in for our induction. I remember that I loved looking out my hospital window and seeing snow covered hills and Christmas lights and thinking how special it would be to have a new baby home at Christmas.
I remember thinking it was uncanny how similar your birth was to your sister's, and how thankful I am that I can push a baby out so quickly, since you both had your cords wrapped around your bodies. I was so thankful this time to get to have you in my room with me instead of a baby in the NICU.
I remember thinking it was so odd that when we had a baby in the NICU, we had to watch a video on infant CPR before we could take Annie home. Since you were not in the NICU, we had to watch a video on not shaking a baby. Weird, but true. I remember being thankful that I got to change your diaper and swaddle you before we took you home, because, let's face it, I needed a little refresher course on that stuff.
I remember that your Dad went home both nights so he could get a good night's sleep (at my insistence). I had your bassinet right next to me and didn't sleep at all the first night. I kept rolling over to look at you. It was so quiet and peaceful. And I tried not to worry about you, or worry about your sister. Or worry about how we were going to survive again with an infant.
But you were so good. So sweet. I loved having you with me from the beginning. And while I haven't stopped worrying about you or your sister, I have stopped worrying about how we will get through. What I have learned in the last few years is that we are a team. And you fit right in. Right now, your "job" (as Annie likes to say) is to make us all smile, give Annie someone to play with, and to give me a new appreciation for a full night's sleep. We have all stepped up our game in the last year, and it's been the best one yet.
So while we don't have a bunch of staged photos of you in a perfect birthday outfit, with a perfect birthday cake with perfect birthday lighting, and none of that will likely ever happen in your lifetime, I can promise that I will do my best to give you our version of perfect birthdays for as long as you will let me. So while it might not always be pretty, it will be fun and happy and loving, which sounds about perfect to me.
I remember that your Dad went home both nights so he could get a good night's sleep (at my insistence). I had your bassinet right next to me and didn't sleep at all the first night. I kept rolling over to look at you. It was so quiet and peaceful. And I tried not to worry about you, or worry about your sister. Or worry about how we were going to survive again with an infant.
But you were so good. So sweet. I loved having you with me from the beginning. And while I haven't stopped worrying about you or your sister, I have stopped worrying about how we will get through. What I have learned in the last few years is that we are a team. And you fit right in. Right now, your "job" (as Annie likes to say) is to make us all smile, give Annie someone to play with, and to give me a new appreciation for a full night's sleep. We have all stepped up our game in the last year, and it's been the best one yet.
So while we don't have a bunch of staged photos of you in a perfect birthday outfit, with a perfect birthday cake with perfect birthday lighting, and none of that will likely ever happen in your lifetime, I can promise that I will do my best to give you our version of perfect birthdays for as long as you will let me. So while it might not always be pretty, it will be fun and happy and loving, which sounds about perfect to me.
Happy birthday, sweet Boy. I love you so incredibly much,
Mom
Such a sweet post. I love that little guy, even if he prefers Chip, as well as pretty much any strange bearded man, over me. The "destroy all the tissue paper!" picture is still one of my favorites. As is "Soccer Fun John Doll - Now Posable!" I could go on.
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