3 years

Three years ago I sat awkwardly crunched in a hospital bed, trying to will my son out of my womb on Star Wars day. Mya was super into Star Wars at the time, and I thought it would link the two of them, the oldest and the youngest, forever. But that night three years ago I learned of my baby boy's stubborn nature in the cruelest of ways.

Reclined in that hospital bed, I kept trying to find my breath. I couldn't breathe well of course because a few weeks prior, Timmy broke my rib and the pain was almost more than I could handle. Contractions, lack of air, and a swollen body are a terrible combination. I was given an oxygen mask, which I hated because I am extremely claustrophobic, but I just sat there trying to find the peace and gumption necessary to continue on in labor, when all of a sudden the labor that had been rapidly moving towards a climax stopped completely and nothing happened for hours. HOURS! I remember looking over at Tim and he looked horribly bored. We laughed that of course my last labor would be the longest, and it was. Tim paced so much that night. He just wanted the whole thing to be over with because he hates seeing me in pain, but Timmy got sleepy I guess and decided to nap the night away and delay the impending delivery.

I remember my doctor came to my room at 7am on the 5th and said that if the baby didn't come on his own by noon, I would need a cesarian section. My heart sank. How was that even possible?! There were so many concerns prior to me even arriving at the hospital--how would I be able to push or breath through a broken rib and labor--that when Timmy decided to fall asleep, it put my body and his in danger.

Sensing my fear and frustration, my nurse--probably the best nurse I ever had--came in and began to manually dilate my cervix (I'll leave out those details). We spent several hours together; I never loved a stranger more. Timmy was born just shy of noon, and my world was forever changed, and I have never looked back.

Timmy is my buddy. We have such a good time together. Sure, he drives me crazy, but I feel like his life and my ability to slow down and enjoy it without other pregnancies or babies has changed my perception on motherhood again.

I love my girls. I do. They are literal angels (and sometimes demons--wink, wink) on earth, but Timmy is something else entirely. He is this ball of force and love. He reminds me so much of his father. He is very loving, friendly and kind. He talks to everyone everywhere. He is constantly waving out his car window and yelling "hello" to strangers. He gives hugs whenever asked and often when unasked. He loves wearing a tie with every outfit. He loves all real trains. He doesn't have a real interest in any cartoon train show, but go sit in front of a train track, and he's fascinated for hours. He isn't a huge fan of ice cream or pancakes or syrup, but man that kid loves cookies and chocolate chips. He has a lot of aggression that comes out when you ask him to repeat a word or phrase. It is perhaps my favorite thing about this current 3-year old phase. He almost never wears shoes. He lives to be outside. He self potty trained. He is 90% independent. He thinks he owns the neighborhood. I am his absolute favorite person; he tells me "Me love you mama" about 50 times a day. He loves his sisters and always says, "Pweas bwess sissies to be safe and happy" in his prayers. He loves working with tools and jumps at the chance to work with daddy. He loves his dad a lot, but not as much as me...sorry Tim, but it's true. He loves his grandparents, pseudo-grandparents (our beloved Ron and Paula), Miss Jenni (my carpool buddy) and his nursery teacher so much; they are the only people he wanted at his birthday party. I don't think he knows he can even be friends with kids his age.

He has the biggest heart and the biggest smile. I would take another broken rib and long labor to be granted another Timmy again. I don't know how I got so lucky.

And please indulge me for a minute while I give you a few pictures and links to his birth:

And perhaps my favorite picture of me I've ever taken. I wrote this to explain how I felt just after delivery: There is this moment after I deliver a baby where I find myself alone in a sea of people, and I sit there silently and reflect on the nine months, the labor, the delivery, and the soft sounds of my newborn baby, and in that moment, I feel heaven so close that it's almost palpable. I feel God all around me; he's in the nurses' smiles, the doctor's furrowed eyebrows, and the way Tim holds my hand. All these feeling swell in my heart, and I feel joy--indescribable joy. I hope I will always remember the way that feels.