Today my little peanut turns one.
It's been the fastest year of my life, due in part, I believe, to the fact that I was semi-conscious most of the time. I woke up around January this year. It's been a blast ever since.
The first few months were really tough. I loved him instantly, yet couldn't shake the feeling that he was a new visitor. A visitor that was here temporarily, that he might leave if things didn't go well. I wonder sometimes if I would have felt he was more permanent if I hadn't had an emergency c-section. If I'd had to endure the pushing and
waiting, if there had just been more time, would his arrival had felt more permanent? Instead, in a matter of moments, before I was fully dilated or even "bored" of a long labor, he arrived. I didn't see him coming, until he arrived.
And when he was officially here, suctioned, nose and mouth de-goo'ed, squeezed and made to cry, I cried too. The trembling and fearful anticipation during the three-minute surgery lessened. I didn't actually stop shaking until 30 minutes later. But it lessened, and as I heard that most beautiful sound of a live, lively, angry-about-being-ejected baby, I laughed and cried. He was fine! Later, found out he'd been blue in the face and the cord was wrapped neatly around his neck.
But for the time being, he was here, I was a mom, and Ben was a dad.
I'll always celebrate this day. I'm thinking about buying myself a dozen roses on the way home. Yes, I believe I will.
Happy birthday, little sweetie!!
Love, Mommy
