This is my Sam. He will be one tomorrow, which is a little mind boggling.
I always like to think back to the day I had my babies when they have birthdays.
One year ago, we had dropped our kids off at Mike’s parents and came home to try to get some rest before going in for a scheduled induction in the morning. We prayed before bed that I would go into labour on my own before then. That didn’t happen.
One year ago, I had no idea what the next day would bring but I did know a secret – that my baby was a boy. My doctor slipped and told me two days before he was born. She was telling me test results from an ultrasound and happened to mention the word “testicles” somewhere in there. Yeah, girls don’t have those. I drove home with the news that induction was necessary (something I wanted to avoid) and that I was carrying a FOURTH boy. Samuel. We knew what his name was already. Mike didn’t want to know what we were having so I didn’t tell anyone else either. It was my secret. One known only by me, my doctor and a nurse named Nikky, who has since become my friend.
One year ago, I had no idea that my baby would use my uterus as a swimming pool as I was in labour with him, turn from being nicely head down, to transverse to breech all in one day. But he did. I didn’t know that a c-section was really a possibility. But it was.
One year ago, I thought my baby was fat. At least nine pounds, maybe even ten. He was eight pounds nine ounces at birth, hardly heavy enough to be called fat, although he was definitely chubby.
One year ago, I had no idea what joy this boy would bring – my peace and freedom baby. Today he claps his hands, waves goodbye, stands on his own and gives very slobbery kisses. And those are not new things to me with four older children, but they are incredibly precious just the same.
I love you Sammy boy. We all do. Happy Birthday!