June 14, 2011 ~ Day 186 Four Years of Love with our 'Pazel'-Eyed Boy

Wouldn't you know it... I went to bed at 1:30am on the *one* night when my younger son would awaken at 2:25am screaming at the top of his lungs "MY TUMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY TUMMY HURRRRRRRRRRTS!!!!!! and crying hysterically.

Then when I rushed in to him, wouldn't it make things just THAT much better to have him vomit instantly the moment I lifted him in my arms - covering both of us with his puke.

Compounding matters, wouldn't it be ironic if all of this was happening on his fourth birthday? So that when I called the on-call nurse around 4:00am to let her know that his fever had spiked to 104 degrees F and was still climbing (it peaked at 105) and she asked, "When is your son's birthday, Ma'am?" my voice would wobble just a little when I answered:

"Today."

Laying on the couch with my child in the wee hours of the morning, with him snuggling into me loosely wrapped in a single blanket and dosed with children's generic Motrin, I couldn't help think about how precious he is to us and how he deserves the best in life. Seems like over his four years, he's had to deal with more than his fair share of sickness and getting beaten up by both of his siblings.

I do believe that everything happens for a purpose though, and it strikes me that perhaps our son has suffered a little more than his brother and sister in order to give him a more grateful, adaptable spirit. He is so laid back and good natured - and he doesn't take life too seriously. As his grandparents like to say, he's a real trooper. These qualities are bound to serve him well throughout life.

Because his fever continued to climb and sleep for either of us was not a real option, I pulled out the five pages of photos and writing I'd just created for his school birthday celebration and read them aloud to him. His new school honors all birthdays by having parents write the "story" of their child's lives, complete with photos. For every year of life, they provide one page upon which parents are asked to write a description of that year for the child.

My son was given sheets for his "Birth" and then ages 1 through 4. I'd spent the better part of an hour putting together his life story before bedtime, recounting the special milestones that he experienced during each year - ranging from learning how to crawl out of his own crib (1st Big Boy Bed!) to learning how to use the potty, taking family vacations and learning how to ride his tricycle without training wheels.

Slowly we read through all of the pages together, with him pointing out different things he noticed in each of the photos of his life.

At 4:30am then, with his feverish little head tucked into my shoulder, I began to tell him the story of his birth.

"On the day you were born," I started, "the Sun was shining brightly. You came out of my tummy and into the world in a light and airy room... at the end of what had been a beautiful afternoon.

Your Daddy was there with me, and your Mima (grandma). They cried with happiness when they saw how perfect you were. You didn't cry though. Actually, you smiled. You were the only baby I had who came into the world smiling."

"How big was I?" he murmured.

"You weighed 7 lbs 10 oz."

"Is that a lot for a baby? Is that big?"

"You were a good size for a baby. An excellent, normal size."

"And what did I look like?" he asked.

"Well, you had a full head of hair. But your head itself was very pointy because sometimes it gets squished a little bit when the baby comes out of the tummy. (Don't worry though, by the next day your head looked like a regular baby head.) You had such a sweet face. And you had a really interesting birth mark on your back."

"Do I still have the birth mark?"

"Yes, you do. It is fading, but it is still there."

"And I had Pazel eyes? Pazel that were green with brown?"

"Hazel eyes? You have those now honey but when you were born, your eyes were actually blue. Most babies have blue eyes at birth."

"Was I talking? Did I talk to you when I came out? What did I say?"

"Well honey, babies don't usually know how to talk right away. You spoke to us with your eyes though, and through your smile. You made it clear that you were happy to be with us. We were incredibly happy to be with you too."

"Was my brother there? Was he in the room when I got borned?"

"No, your brother was back at your grandmother's house waiting to meet you. And do you know what? Your brother was THRILLED because the very first thing you did when you met him was to give him his first little guitar."

"I DID? Why did I do that?"

"Because you were happy to meet him. You wanted him to know that you were glad to be his brother, and that you wanted to be his friend too. You were a very sweet baby."

"Oh. Good. Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Did you and Daddy love me right away?"

"Oh angel. We loved you even before we met you. I feel like I've known you my entire life, even before I met your Daddy. We both love you so much; you and your brother and sister mean the world to us."

"I loved you right away too, Mommy. I remember."

* * * * *

Much moved by his innocent, heartfelt admission of love I cuddled my son and kissed the top of his scalp - which even through the hair still felt like it was burning up.

Silently but with a full heart, I thanked God for giving me such a sweet child. His good heart has illuminated our lives for four years now, and every new day is its own miracle.

At dawn, when his fever had broken and he was at last peacefully slumbering by my side, I thought back with joy to that very first moment when my husband, mother and I met and fell head over heels for him on the spot.

Sometimes life really does give you something perfect and beautiful.

Happy Birthday my angel. May you feel well enough to enjoy your special day of Star Wars toys, Chinese takeout and lemon cake...

...and may you look forward to many future decades of health and happiness, surrounded always by people who love you as much as we do.