On his first birthday he is sweet and happy and funny and all kinds of wonderful. He wakes in the mornings sweetly saying dadamamadada, then he slowly turns up the volume until he is bellowing DADAMAMAMA. When I greet him, he open mouth squeal-smiles and reaches for me. I peel the tape from his face, untangle him from his wires and tubes, and pick him up. He grabs fistfuls of my neck, and screeches as I attempt to silently close the bedroom doors to let the men sleep. My sneaking does no good, and after a minute of playing on the bathroom floor with a washcloth, a brother comes in. He yells and grins, flashing his one tooth at Josiah, and says “BAVABABA pffbbt!” Josiah says “Hi bubba,” and lays his head on his “bavaba’s” lap. Josiah says “it’s your birthday, Bubba” in his sweet scratchy morning voice he sings happy birthday to Noah several times as I shower.
Oh, he is loved!
Mommas have muddled emotions anyway, but this day was hard. I spent the day shooing memories of Noah’s birth-day from my mind as we celebrate chubby happy sweet boy with a family 1st birthday party. I pulled up my big girl pants and made a cake, helped the boys decorate, guided the big boys as they wrapped presents, and we had a party. All while I was watching the clock and memorializing the day a year ago.
Mother’s Day was wonderful this year. We spent the day together. Nothing special happened, but we were together. Last year on mother’s day I was stuck at the hospital with baby who was so jaundiced that I could not hold him. He was so sick and weak he hardly moved. My boys were 2 hours away, and I missed them to tears. Thankful for all my little boys.
I am sad Noah’s baby year is over, and am glad we are past it.
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