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Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I haven't had a spare moment to write the promised post. Actually, if I'm honest, I haven't really had time to think about it much. The lowercase and I are still working on the sleep issues. We're going to Gymboree. We're preparing for Thanksgiving dinner and the grandparents' imminent arrival. We're wrapping Christmas gifts and planning how we'll decorate the house. (Alright...that's what I'm doing -- but he's there and making me smile through all of it)
And most of all I'm looking at my beautiful son and I'm being thankful. I have so many things to be thankful for this year. My wonderful parents. My husband who loves both me and his son with such intensity. The opportunities that lay ahead for us (some of you know what I'm talking about) and the choices that we have to make -- hard as they are to make, they are choices not something being thrust upon us against our will.
But of course that which I am most thankful for: My son. On this date last year he weighed just 2 lbs 14 oz. He was so very small and frail. He didn't yet cry. He wasn't even allowed to wear clothing yet. He still lived in his isolette, 22 days after his birth, with the temperature set at high levels in order for him to maintain his body temperature. When I held him, he curled up on my chest so that his head was tucked under my chin and his feet ended just below my breasts. I could pick him up easily in one hand and fully support his entire body.
This year, he has grown from 13 1/4 inches to 30 inches tall! His weight has balooned from his 2 lb 11 oz birth weight to a whopping 19 1/2 lbs! He crawls everywhere. He pulls himself up to stand. If he has something to hold onto (a couch, a parents' hand, the coffee table, his walk'n'ride toy) he can walk. He's had his first haircut. He smiles and laughs and talks. When asked, he'll make a turkey sound (ok, his version sounds nothing like a turkey but then, neither does mine!). He holds his hands up in the air when asked how tall he is (he is after all "Soooo big!"). He plays his own games. He looks at books and somehow knows to look at each page and turns his head from left to right several times per page before turning to the next. He can say mama and dada and grandpa (he just laughs when you ask him to say grandma -- one of his games...he doesn't like to do everything for everyone. Some things are secrets and that's the way he likes it). He likes to brush his teeth.
I could go on forever. In short, he is the light of my life. He is the reason I am here. I used to think my life had meaning -- that the work I did as a teacher was my calling. Now I know better. My "work" as his mother is. And I thank God every day for letting me have this child. For allowing him to survive when others born at his gestation, his size (or those born later and larger for that matter) did not. I can't remember my life before. And for that, I am truly thankful.
Happy Thanksgiving. (And to the Canadians [I'm talking to you Lala!] -- HAPPY THURSDAY!)
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