One year ago my life changed dramatically. Not only did I become a mother, not only did my social life change, but my emotional health was compromised. But this isn’t about my postpartum troubles, this is about the little guy who looks up at me every morning with the biggest grin on his face. It’s about the snuggles at night before bedtime. It’s about the day Michael James popped into our lives.
I still remember clearly when it was time to push that little — oh wait, he wasn’t so little, he was over 8 lbs — guy out. The nurse who was working closely with us was so excited. The room became very crowded, but I didn’t pay attention. All I focused on was giving birth. What a moment.
One year ago, at 8:59pm, Michael was caught and let out one loud screech, letting us know that he was mad, and then was whisked away to make sure he was okay. Such a beautiful, head of hair, purple baby. A mad baby. One of his characteristics is getting so mad (not sad, not tired, not upset, but MAD) that he holds his breath and starts to turn purple, his mouth wide open, and we all hold our breath waiting for the release of the oncoming storm — the scream. Looking back he did this as his first hello to us, telling us that he was mad. Poor baby.
I also remember holding him in my arms for the first time. He felt so tiny and so helpless. I began to wonder if I would even be capable of being the mother to this precious child. I kept looking to Adam, wondering what he was thinking, hoping that he felt more in control than how I felt. I remember not wanting to give him back to him to show my mom. I wanted to make sure that my little boy was going to be okay — especially with a young mother like me.
I remember taking him home, and how he filed his mad complaint for half the drive. I sat in the back and tried to pacify him, but he needed to let us know he was not happy at all, and once his complaint was over he would settle down.
The most precious moments were the three of us in our room, resting on the bed with Michael between us. We were new parents; worn out, sleep-deprived, hungry. But we loved on our son with all that we knew. We didn’t know the right or wrong according to the books, but we loved him and took care of his tiny needs. And he felt secure.
Now today, one year later, he sits with us before bed and gives Daddy some snuggles after drinking his last bottle for the day. We sit and pray together, enjoying the quiet. Michael is slowly learning to sit still, but he loves his little time before bed. He feels loved by us, and that’s the most important thing.
He’s a special little boy and has a wonderful, loving personality. He’s sweet with his hugs and sad little tries at kisses. He’s bashful, but flirtatious with the ladies. He gives the guys a blank look. He’s smart, he’s curious — and he’s stubborn. Such a wonderful bundle of sweet stubbornness, I am so blessed.