what better way to awake than to a smattering of baby kisses?
you're barely one, and you already have such a big heart. you always climb on my head and get your face as close to mine to wake me up. you didn't even drown me in slobber this morning, just gentle little kisses until i came to, and then a smile, and then a million more gentle kisses until my heart melted.
and then slobber. :)
still, quite sentimental.
(title quote by henry finck)
today you made the transition from can walk to does walk.
everywhere you go. the length of the house, over the bumps, down (very) small steps. out with crawling. you get up and follow me everywhere i go. it's really cute until i'm going back and forth in the room and you're struggling to keep up, and then it's still very cute, but also adorably sad.
i have that indescribable feeling, kind of like my heart is so full of joy i can feel it al the way in my stomach, but words do it no justice. it is a beautiful thing to watch you grow.
title quote by steven wright
4 comments Labels: firsts
as time has passed, i've noticed the number of mobile uploads decrease. that's how it goes, isn't it? parents are supposed to get less fascinated with their babies as they grow. the euphoric feeling of a newborn fades and we point the camera less and chase you more while our hair turns grey.
being here proves these theories foolish.
because as you grow into a more beautiful and complex human being, you also grow into a faster human being, leaving my incapable lens nothing more than a blur. the treasures, even if they can't be captured in a still, are still very present.
let there be no question that my love for you runs deeper every day.
that you do more and more things i wish i could bottle forever.
that there is not an ounce less interest, but countless memories that i'll hold onto as long as my frail mind allows.
babies are notorious for sounds, both the interesting ones they make and the ridiculous ones people make at them. this has proven to be humorous, and so for some time, i have been documenting those things it has been said you sound like. the list has flourished, and now must be posted for the world to share in the joy of.
you have either intentionally or unintentionally sounded like the following on one or several occasions:
a puppy.
a bird.
shoes squeaking on a gym floor.
a pterydactel.
a gremlin.
a cow.
a seagull.
a rusty swingset.
a chihuahua.
a cat.
a parrot.
donald duck.
the whistling of a teapot.
no mater how well documented, these sacred moments with you cannot be captured. cannot be frozen in time. i've already begun answering questions with a confused, 'i don't know' or 'i honestly can't remember.'
all the pictures + videos + tweets + blogs in the world can't recreate the awe and wonder i felt those first few days you were alive, or the depths my love has grown to since.
or how overjoyed i was when you first laughed.
or how worried over your first hospitalization.
i can close my eyes and imagine, but i can't feel you in my arms if you're not really there.
still, even these fragmented recollections that live on when i revisit these memories via endless multimedia are far more beautiful than any pieces of my life before you, and i treasure watching this love grow as you grow.
it was the end of may before i had my first appointment with my midwife, six months along. we were having that, i don't want to know the gender, but i think it's a boy, do i want to circumcise, do i go through counseling again, do i want drugs, etc. conversation when i noticed she was suddenly no longer listening to anything i was saying. now i know i am long-winded, but having a midwife inspecting your baby suddenly grow tense and start grabbing every doppler in the room to listen to your abdomen is not a comforting scenario. then she asks me if i know where vanderbilt emergency room is, and do i feel alright to drive? because she can call an ambulance for me, but it would be faster if i drove. do i need directions?
what??
and she gives me the two-second rundown of my baby's heart rate is in the 60's, when it should be in the 120-160's, signifying that he is in distress, all while she draws me a map because i must have said i was alright to drive. and off i go, with no idea really what is going on, just instructions to ask for this specific woman as soon as i get to the ER, not to park my car, to check it in valet because that's faster, and to get there as quickly as i can, but to be safe.
i spent that entire maybe ten-minute ride bawling on the phone to my friend shar, more scared than i'd ever been in my life.
when i got to the ER, the staff was fabulous about getting me upstairs and checked out in a timely manner. i had (literally, i counted) 17 people crowded in a hospital room asking me questions i never knew could exist in a medical journal. an anesthesiologist was shoving papers in my face and my junk was spread out in front of way too many members of the opposite sex while i tried my best to remain calm.
and then you kicked.
and everything stopped.
and the chaos came again as quickly as it had gone. it was now, tell surgery prep we don't need the room, get the supervising doctor in here, get ultrasound after ultrasound and find out how this baby is not in distress even though his heart is beating at a rate half of normal.
things mellowed out over the hours, but it was still a, 'make sure your baby kicks every 30-45 minutes', 'you understand there is a moderate risk of infant death, if anything feels out of the ordinary, come straight to the ER,' 'can i get you anything else?' for the remainder of my pregnancy.
you were soon diagnosed with third degree heart block, which landed us 3-5 appointments week for the remainder of my pregnancy, your first few days spent in ICU, and the nicest pediatric cardiologist a fetus / mom / kid could ever ask for.
for months, i've said that i was so grateful that you were such a ninja in utero. you saved yourself from an emergency caesarean. from more complications than you've already got. and perhaps even your own life.
but then today, out of nowhere, new details came flying out of the wood works smacking me right in the face. it is so. much. more than that.
if i had stayed in philadelphia, the leaving of which has been my greatest regret, and received prenatal care there, instead of running home to my mom because i knew 'something was wrong,' i'd have never carried you to term.
if my mom had not been having a hard time with her then husband, if they had never gotten married in the first place, if my parents had never gotten divorced, and if i had ever been taken out of town to the doctor or been able to borrow a car to get there and receive prenatal care, i'd have never carried you to term.
if my boyfriend and i had not broken up a couple months into my pregnancy, preventing me from going from philadelphia to nashville to be happy in love forever and i had received prenatal care, i'd have never carried you to term.
if i had stayed in oklahoma city when i found out i was pregnant instead of following through on my move to philadelphia (a miserably failed attempt at going to college) and received prenatal care, i'd have never carried you to term.
never.
but none of those things happened.
none.
instead, you were born in late july, a mere 4 weeks early, at a strong 5 1/2 lbs, and perfectly alright.
perfectly. alright.
thanks are in order. thank you, casey, for calling to tell me you had found someone else. thank you, mom, for being so wonderful that i didn't want to go through a pregnancy that felt so frail without you. thank you, mom and fred for suffering through marital un-bliss in such perfect timing that you saved my son. thank you, geo, for not running properly while i drove you so that i never made it to a doctor. thank you, shar for encouraging me to chase after my dreams in light of devastatingly hard pregnancy symptoms that did end up keeping me out of school, but now knowingly not because i was afraid to pursue it. thank you, oklahoma city, for making me the most miserable human being when i live in your city limits. i do love you still. thank you, bess, for being the most brilliant but still cautious and perfectly timed midwife in the world. thank you, vanderbilt, for knowing exactly what you are doing, i have never trusted medical professionals so completely. thank you, god, for hope and for all these tiny miracles. and thank you, zebediah dean, for being an overactive fetus and the strongest little boy i have ever, ever known.
