Just go home and stay in bed. Don't lift a finger. Yeah. No problem. Said a mother of two small boys... NEVER. I begged him not to send me home. Terrified that I would go into full blown labor on my own and not have enough time to get to the hospital or worse have a repeat or some similar situation as I had 7 years before with Aidan. A birth experience that brought me closer to death than I care to remember. The delivery that almost sent me home with out a baby. Surely the doctor that had been obnoxiously thorough the last 9 months... sending me for every test under the sun. Monitoring me so closely that I was sure baby September was going to come out glowing after all the sonograms I had.... was not going to let that happen. My high risk, sought after, top notch doctor, that I adored must have a plan that was more involved than telling me to keep my legs crossed and pray until his weekend off was over.
Nope. As it turns out that was the plan. So when I showed up at the hospital Sunday morning literally about to have September it should have been no surprise that no one knew about my blood disorder. No one knew how it should be treated. And my wonderful doctor... oh he was too busy at his sons soccer game to answer the phone. At 8 1/2 centimeters.... a point where the baby could practically stick his arm out and wave I was left on a gurney. Told to "hang tight" while they figured out what needed to be done. The hematologist on call... the one familiar with all blood disorders readily admitted she had no idea how to treat mine. Asked me if I remembered the name and dosage of the medicine I was given when I had my last c section because they would just go with that. Me! She asked me! The girl having contractions so strong that I could not see straight. I didn't even know my fucking name never mind the dosage of the medicine that was given three years ago. And why would I be a reliable source any way. I am not a doctor. Or a nurse. I am a mom of two... about to be three. Currently trying to keep a baby from sliding out my vagina. Are you really asking me?!
At more than 9 centimeters it was all figured out and I was heading in for my c section. Which I was really pissed about. To go through that many hours of labor with no medication or epidural and get a c section literally minutes before the baby could have been born naturally is just senseless torture if you ask me. Nonetheless that is how it happened. More importantly September arrived safely. And good God was he perfect?! And big! Just like at I had felt with his brothers... it was instalove.
Completely consumed in this new love I almost forgot that September needed an official name. Everyone thought we were just with holding what we had picked. Some even thought that we had actually named the baby September. Seark is a hard one to follow. I mean after a name like Seark you can't just go with Joe for the next one. Besides we can't leave Seark out there all alone in the strange name club. But honestly you can't out do Seark with out getting a little crazy. And I had already given Seark, Rylan for a middle name which was my next favorite boy name. So we were stumped. Until they informed us that we could not leave the hospital with out filling out the birth certificate. At that point we decided we could totally use Rylan again. So we did.
The sight, smell, feel of a newborn baby is intoxicating. To hold this tiny being so fresh from heaven there is no denying a higher being and the occurrence of modern day miracles. I spent the next few days just gazing at flawless little September. Breathing him in. Touching his warm, soft skin. Running my fingers through is baby fine hair. Wishing to freeze this time knowing how fast goes. I studied the sweet perfection of his face. Aware that it will change in the blink of an eye. And it did. Everyday. He changed and although subtle... noticeable. To me. Every night I would rock him to sleep and before I put him down for the night I'd trace the lines of his face so gently trying to etch them in memory. Afraid the he was changing so fast I would forget what he looked like on any particular night. Because that is what happens. I miss the days of being a blissfully ignorant first time mom that didn't know just how fast this time passes you by. Or that no matter how much you try not to you will forget.
And so a week turned into a month. And a month into two, then three and so on. My little newbie was growing at warp speed. Smiling and cooing at his brothers. A little personality was just beginning to form. The dark hair that he had a birth was long gone and little blonde fuzz was beginning to grow in its place. His dark grey eyes were beginning to turn blue. With each passing day my love grew. And not just for Rylan but for all my boys and the love that they have for each other.
Months four, five, and six were spent snuggling on the couch as snow fell out side. We celebrated Aidan's birthday, Christmas, small and big milestones. Smiles and coos were turning into belly laughs and babbling. And before I knew it my tiny babe was off to explore all on his own. He mastered crawling and then there was no stopping him. His baby soft knees started to feel like sandpaper as he made his way around on all fours. Until the day he discovered that he could pull himself up and cruise the furniture. Curious hands found their way into everything. And though his ambition out weighs his ability to balance his unsteady legs he never stop trying.
With seven months came a first tooth and a cranky teething baby. By the beginning of month eight three more teeth had made their way through those lumpy red gums for a total of four. Then six and now eight. A baby with 8 teeth makes nursing feel like a danger. All these new teeth also opened the door to a whole new tasty world of food we had previously not explored. With every new flavor Ry found a funny new face to express the message his taste buds were sending.
As pages of the calendar turned I started to feel the clock tick. September was fast approaching. Our days in the sun were numbered and so was the time until my Ry James turned one. My heart was starting to ache. This bitter sweet joy of yet another year that had filled me with so much more love than I knew I could hold had my heart so full the only thing it could do was grow. But growing pains are still pain. And a heart ache even if caused by joy still hurts. September is here and in more ways than one. So I baked a cake and stuck a candle in the middle. Sung happy birthday with sweet September on my lap and held back the tears of a mom not ready for next chapter just yet. But ready or not your growing as babies tend to do.
So my Ry I won't hold you back or slow you down. I will watch you grow and let you go while I cheer you on. I will hold my breath while you take your first unsteady steps and hold your hand whenever you need it. Your first words have yet to be said but I can not wait to hear them. I will fight for you and be in your corner no matter what while I fight back these tears because I know my heart isn't breaking... just growing. You are only one, you have only just begun... the best is yet to come! Happy Birthday my sweet boy!
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