He was a month early, tiny and blue and I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised to find him suddenly in the outside world. There was a long moment when everything froze, and we just stared at each other. I probably would have stayed frozen like that for the rest of the day, but nurses rushed in to lift me to the bed and move J to the baby warmer where they spent a good deal of time trying to get him to breathe. I’d tell you how terrifying that was, but in all honesty it didn’t become scary to me until much later. I think I was in shock, because I just stared in silence as the doctors and nurses fluttered around him.
The next few hours were utter chaos. We’re not even sure what time he was actually born, because no one managed to look at the clock. Not that I cared much about that. Nothing mattered beyond the tiny little being that had finally been placed in my arms. It wasn’t until the dark, quiet hours of that following night that it suddenly connected in me that the bundle I had been clutching for hours was actually the same baby that had been inside of me for all those months. It was a very strange, powerful moment. I had not slept for over 48 hours. I had been through the most intense, grueling, powerful experience of my life. And yet… I have never been so incredibly exhilirated as I was in that moment. I couldn’t have slept, even if I had wanted to.
We had a rough start, Jayden and I, but you wouldn’t know it looking at us now. He has thrived and grown (perhaps a little too quickly for my taste), evolved from the tiny helpless stranger that fell into my life to the happy, quirky, opinionated toddler who lights up my world.
It’s been a good year. Happy birthday, baby.