Five. Five Years. Five?? Yes, Shannon. Five. Wow.
I am in disbelief. How can he be Five already? (Well, in two weeks he will be five.)
His due date was July 25. For nine months, people kidded me that I’d have a July 4th baby. I said, “No way.” I didn’t want my son to share a birthday with a major national holiday, so I wouldn’t even consider the possibility. Through June, I had episodes of false labor. I spent a very short time on limited bedrest. The contractions came and went without impact. So when I woke on the morning of July 4, I ignored the contractions and went about preparing for our family cookout to happen that day at my husband’s grandfather’s house. Chris watched me nervously and suggested a couple of times that I call our midwife. “I’m fine. They aren’t real contractions. I’ll take a bath and drink a gallon of water,” I said to him. “They will go away. They always do.”
In the warm bath, trying to relax and keep up my denial, I looked over at the pink Cyclamen plant sitting beside the tub, the late morning light streaming in to illuminate its blooms. My mother had given me that plant as a housewarming gift. It had only been 8 weeks since she died. My heart was still grieving in so many ways, but most of all in the realization that she would not be here for his birth. I thought of the way she would lovingly pat my expanding belly and say, “Just look at that beautiful baby!” The pink flowers seemed to glow at me, and I felt a sense of her love and her presence wash over me. How could I do this without her? But her presence with me was calming, gentle, and reassuring. That was when I first started to realize that his birth might be today.
As I got dressed, Chris asked how far apart the contractions were now, seeing on my face, I suppose, that they had not vanished with the bath as I’d predicted. “Four minutes and getting stronger.” An hour later, we arrived at the hospital, met by my dad, my in laws, and our midwife, Ginny. No denying it anymore. I was in labor full swing. I was having our baby. The next few hours moved quickly and smoothly, and shortly after 7:00 p.m. on the 4th of July, this incredible little boy entered the world.
And that was just the beginning! He’s a firecracker in every sense of the word. He is a celebration personified: loud, exciting, firey, enthusiastic, explosive, entertaining, joyous, and vibrant. He has two speeds: fast and faster. He has a heart that overflows with love, and he can charm the paint off the walls. Above all, he has his mommy wrapped around his little finger, and he knows it. I know it, too. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Birthday, my favorite Firecracker. Mommy loves you more every single day.
