Silas! My third son, a pleasant surprise. We didn’t really plan on you, but I sure was over the moon when I found out you were on your way.
I named you at a stoplight. Well, I already loved the name, but I didn’t apply it to you until I was on my way to an ultrasound. It was time to see how well you were growing, and if I would have three sons or get that girl I wanted. But while at the stoplight it hit me - I was going to have another boy. I literally said, out loud, “It’s a boy. It’s Silas.” Also at that appointment, I found out your placenta had implanted much too low, and I would have to be extra careful for the rest of the pregnancy. A few drops of blood about a month later nearly stopped my heart.
Your name means, “man of the forest”, but it also means, “third.” I found that out after I chose it, by the way.
Your exit from the womb was hard on me. Eight days in the hospital due to premature rupture of membranes, followed by your birth at only 35 weeks. I was prepared for it to be bad, but there you were at seven pounds and looking full term! Your two brothers got to be there, along with grandma Kathy, and we were all instantly in love. Alas, later they took you, and it was the longest three weeks of my life till I got you back. I sat with you every day, all day, despite the whispers about me behind my back. I didn’t leave you, little buddy, until I just had to. I functioned on about four hours of sleep a day for that time.
We got you home and you fit right in. I held you tight and long. I can still see the panicked look on your face when it got bad and you couldn’t get it swallowed down, couldn’t breathe. You were such a trooper.
Granted I had two under my belt, but you were such an easy baby to care for. That little face! I still OD on cuteness when I see you.
You learned early how to keep up with big brothers. My fears that you would be odd man out due to your age were quickly stifled. You never know a stranger, and anyone is your friend after thirty seconds of conversation. Random winks and thumbs up at people in the Vanderbilt halls made me smile, shake my
head, and marvel at this little gift I had. Your smile can melt hearts.
Oh, and those eyes! The biggest pools of brown I have ever seen. I get lost in them all the time and I am pained that you have to grow up. I ask you to stay little, and with a forlorn face you tell me you have to eat, otherwise you will stay hungry. With a sad laugh I tell you that it’s OK to grow up, mommy will be fine.
“You’re the best, mom!”
You say it frequently, and it is usually accompanied by a tight squeeze and some of your smile magic.
While your anger can rage, and your stubbornness can drive me to my limit, your sweet spirit is the highlight of my day.
I love you so, Booger! You are such a gift to me. Mommy’s little man.
0 comments:
Post a Comment