Today is boy-child’s 11th birthday! (Well, actually, in …Off on a Tangent world,
which is my virtual world, which is me, mostly, boy-child’s birthday was
yesterday since I’m usually about a day behind reality here.) Anyway, boy-child is officially a year older,
and so, therefore, am I.
He was born early – about 7 weeks – and while that’s not
really as early as some other premature babies, it was certainly scary enough for
this first-time mother. He spent the
first twelve days of his life in the NICU at Children’s Hospital getting a suntan (he was slightly jaundiced) and being fed through a tube (he didn't have a suck-reflex, so he had to learn it). Visiting him there was scary, too – but I
couldn't stay away.
One night, hubby and I had gone home for the night with the
intent of returning to the hospital first thing the next morning, and I had an anxiety attack just
before midnight absolutely convinced
something was wrong with boy-child. All
alone. In an incubator. In a big scary hospital. All alone.
Alone. SOB! So hubby drove my hyperventilating-self to
Children’s Hospital (a 30 mile drive, mind you) so I could see our little baby
boy.
Boy-child was so tiny.
Born at 4lbs 6.8oz and 17 ¾ inches long.
He had a full head of black hair which, as he got older, all fell out
and grew back blonde. He had giant brown
eyes. Giant. And he had a way of peeking at you from under
these mile-long eyelashes – even as a tiny infant – that just melted your
heart. He had a huge noggin! As he got a
little older and started sitting up, that head, more often than not, was the
reason he couldn't keep his balance and tipped right over.
As a now 11-year old, not much has changed except that he’s
bigger, and he has grown into his head.
He still has huge brown eyes and long, dark eyelashes, though, and he
makes use of them regularly because he knows
just the right look will still melt my heart and he can get just about whatever he
wants. (I’m really not a pushover,
though, and he doesn't really get whatever he wants, but darn it! He’s hard to resist!) I just love him to pieces.
Happy birthday, buddy!
I love you!
TTFN
JMS (a.k.a. “Mom”)
No comments:
Post a Comment