When you were born, you were brought to me all wrapped up in towels, blue eyes squinting and blinking in the bright lights. You were laid across my chest so we could look at each other, and I said, “hi.”
It still took some time before all the machines that went beep and hissed and whrred were taken off of me so that I could touch you. I remember the firmness of your little body, the softness of your hair and skin, the weight of your realness in my hands. Your fingers tentatively explored your new world – reaching out, then curling back up again close to you as you squeaked and mumbled. The doctors and nurses and midwives all had things to tell me, but I couldn’t really take in what they were saying. I was far too busy taking in you.
It was nearly a week before you had a name. You were, “little one,” and “My little love,” when I talked to you. We wandered the halls together at all hours. I stood and swayed – you liked a figure-eight pattern best.
Today you turned three.
You saw your first magic trick today, and it rocked your world. You thought you had the hang of object permanence, and this guy goes and disappears a red handkerchief? Then a coin, which he then found in your sleeve!
You’d waited patiently through all the other birthdays at daycare, and today it was your turn. Cupcakes (that you helped make), everyone singing Happy Birthday to you, and candles to blow out. At home, you eagerly tore your way through your presents, but like Christmas, you took the time to play with most. You were serenaded by Mandy as is family tradition, and blew out candles on your cupcakes with Granna and Grandpa Bill listening in on the phone. You talked with Grandma and Grandpa on the computer, and told them that Santa gave you the train set! By bath time you were over excited and tired, and the possibility of waiting until morning to do your puzzle was a little more than you could bear. But you calmed down in the tub, and we did the puzzle together one time before bed. All day long we showered each other with “I love you.”
You’re asleep now. But I’ll let you drift deeper before I go in to cuddle my three year old. As I told you tonight, I’ve never had a three year old son to cuddle and snuggle. And now I get a whole year of it!
I love you,