The day of your birth

Family and friends have all gone home. Food is mostly eaten, with a few leftovers in the fridge. The backyard is full of water toys, and chalk, and borrowed lawn chairs and tables. The trash is ready to take out, and your birthday cake sits half dug into on the counter. Today we celebrated your 1st birthday. One whole year its been since you've joined this side of the dry world, and I sit here in the silence of the aftermath and I am so emotional thinking about all the implications of what tomorrow (your actual birth day) brings.
  

My first emotions are just feelings of overwhelmed. The party, although low-key, had a lot going on. People came and went, I was keeping track of two children around water, getting things for this person and that, making sure people felt welcome, my kids were fed, I was talking enough to my family, telling helpers where this decoration goes and to place that beverage placed over there. It's a lot. And of course I wanted a pinterest perfect party. I know, big mistake. It's a lot of pressure to think that anyone cares about the edible seaglass that you made. Yes. That was on the pinterest board for this party. NO. I didn't get around to it. And then, sweet child, you did NOT take a nap today. So you were not the most pleasant of children to be around come 3pm when people began to arrive. I did nurse you and let you nap for an hour, because let's be honest, a screaming birthday child is not exactly what we came to celebrate. Although, it is your party, and you can cry if you want to. But it's all over, and you're in bed, and I'm left with my thoughts.

There are so many things I want to remember about this past year, Emerson. First, you are your name my son. Emerson means brave and powerful, and you embody those two things. You have from the beginning. From the 3rd, yes the 3rd contraction, you showed your power. Much like your brother before you, you made it clear that you were ready to come out with intensity and force. 10 hours I labored with you (you would think it was a breeze after 40+ with your brother!) until I decided it was time to go to the hospital. The doctor wanted you out via cesarean, but I was stubborn. Not dumb, just stubborn. I knew he measured you the day before labor at our appointment at 11 lbs 12 oz. Well, what do you know, those dumb machines were right. You came out 11 lbs 13 oz. I was quite familiar with labor. I was ready for another 40+ hour labor, and convinced myself that it would be worse case scenario pain-wise, but was honestly hoping for only a 24 hour labor. Well, you were powerful, and all the Bradley method, positive affirmations, bathtub sitting didn't hold a candle to your strength my son. I threw in the towel after 10 hours of contractions every couple of minutes apart. I remember telling Amy, your aunt and a fabulous doula, that I was ready for the hospital and if they say I'm only 5-6cm I'm telling them I'm ready for a c-section. I threw in the caveat that if I was 8-9cm, I might try to push and see how it goes. I wanted to leave myself an open door because after hearing about all the risk of vaginally delivering an almost 12 pound baby (from a person of my stature)...risks that included death, although that didn't scare me, and rectal incontinence, yup, that was the deciding factor right there, I needed to tread lightly and not be so rigid in insisting my birth plan be followed to the t. I still remember that 15 minute car ride to the hospital. I had a contraction every minute, it was miserable. I remember covering my face with a pillow too so people didn't see the agony and wonder...not that I cared. I could have been butt naked and walked through the hospital for all I cared. What is it about labor that you just don't care about your looks or state of being? Maybe it's just me? Anyway, I digress. I still remember insisting that I walk down the hall to labor and delivery, and not being able to even walk across the lobby! My eyes were closed the entire time, and I heard, "She needs a wheelchair" "She doesn't want a wheelchair" "get her a wheelchair" "She's having bad contractions." It was like chaos all around me, and I kept my face in that pillow. Finally my legs planted into the ground, I could not shuffle a step further, and they brought me a wheelchair. I remember them asking me questions and saying, "Oh wow, you must be having strong contractions" No shit Sherlock. The nurse checked me and said plain as day, "5-6, and the head is way up there." Emerson, it was like a switch in my brain. I opened my eyes and said, "I'd like a c-section please." I turned it off. I turned off the mental you tube affirmation videos of positive natural birth. I turned off my dream of a quiet birthing room where I scooped you up on the second push, onto my chest. I turned off all of that. So another whirlwind, that took almost an entire hour, and my spinal kicked it. Bless the Lord for spinals. Labor is still going, but I no longer feel the agony. I remembered this part from last time, so I intentionally soaked in the couple of minutes I had to remember the smells, remember the faces, remember the feelings...because I knew it went quick after this. Well, it took quite a while to get you out. They made a bigger incision than normal, and (I was told) two doctors got on the table and pushed on my sides to pop you out like a pimple after you decided you didn't want to come out easily. And they say cesarean is low-risk, pssshhh. You showed your strength, but finally they got you. And just like that my love, you were here. I still remember them taking you to the scale and everyone in the room waited forever to see the number that would come up. Finally there it was...11.13. I remember asking a couple of times, "Is that correct? Are you sure?" It was correct. And then, the most important moment of the whole day...your dad said to the nurse--knowing how difficult a time I had in bonding with your brother--can he stay with her while they finish? The nurse had a look of, Hmmm, no one has ever asked that before...and said, "Okay, if so and so is okay to stay here." So and so nurse agreed to stay in the operation room, and there you were my love. Your wrinkly furry skin. Your smushed face. Your pointy ear, just like mine. You just laid there on my chest, as if you knew. You knew it sweetheart that this was mama. You didn't really even cry. They let you stay with me for a long time, and I'm so grateful they did. Right when I got in the room, you nursed like you'd done it a million times before, and I spent the rest of the days in the hospital totally attached to you--physically and emotionally. You let us know when you were cold--loudly. You slept longer than the hospital pediatrician felt was good without eating (but I knew better). You had to redo your hearing test several times. And I made several nurses uncomfortable when I slept the whole night with you on me in bed. You are perfect my son, and I cherish the time we had in the beginning. I think our bond is strong now because of those few things that went so very well on the day you were born.

We came home and what a sweet boy you were. All 12 pounds of you. I can still smell your newborn hair on my chest. I can see your chubby face smashed as you sleep. I can hear your sweet coos as you breathe. Emerson Xavier, I could not be more proud to be your mother.

Over the past 12 months, you have amazed me with your spunk, wowed me with your strength. You have sucked down more milk I think than the average kid, and demanded to have your voice be heard. I hear you my child. You are loved, you are valued, you are cherished, you are adored. I have seen you love your brother with a glimmer in your eye--almost as though you recognize him from even before birth. He loved you even then, sweet child. I have seen you get excited when you reach a milestone and realize it--the joy you have in accomplishing something. I know full well that you have in mind the exact way you plan to do something, and you make it known when someone does not fulfill that plan. You have a confidence about you, in your step, in your thinking, in your development. I think you're exactly "on target" as far as development goes, and I see the trend is you accomplish the next milestone boldly and with poise. 4 years ago, I would've thought a person crazy for saying all of that could be identified in a child so young, but I see it in you bubbies. You're middle name, Xavier means "new house." You are our anchor to this place where God has called us into this specific community. You bring a sense of peace to this new house, my love. Not in the way of sleeping at night ::sigh:: but in feeling that God is good.

It's remarkable to see you individually for your characteristics, your personality, and your uniqueness. You look more and more like your brother each day, but you could not be any more uniquely you. The Lord has designed you and created you for purpose. He loves you, and your are perfect in His eyes...and mine, let's be honest.

So tomorrow marks 365 days of you living on this earth. I pray that your life be full, that you have much influence for good, that your strength be courageous and steadfast, and that you bring hope and a fresh start to many in the name of Jesus. You were preciously made in my womb, and I am honored to be your mom. I love you with my whole being, baby. May you always know how much you are loved. Happy birthday, Emerson Xavier.