I used to promise myself that I would never turn into one of those blubbering embarrassing women who got all emotional about her kids and gushed and cried and all that junk. I was supposed to be the cool mom, the one who didn't always find herself saying cliche things like, "Ahh... they grow up so fast, don't they?" while sighing and shaking her head. Did I know my cheesy self when I made those promises?
The truth is that I look through albums of your pictures all the time with my head tilted all sentimentally, and I already wonder where the time has gone. It's hard to remember a time when my days weren't scheduled around your nap times and my priorities weren't centered around your complete and total happiness. I mean it when I say that I wouldn't have it any other way. The truth is that I have put off writing this post because thinking about what a blessing you are turns me into one of those sappy women. You know, the ones I would never NEVER resemble. In any way. Shoot. At least I still squeeze my muffin top over low rise jeans, though, right? Right?
It's your first birthday, and I just don't know how. On the other hand, I can measure it perfectly in giggles, snuggles in our homemade "cocoons", and milestones that are so much better than the ones they tell you about in those books that tell you about what your child is supposed to be like. Your daddy and I have used those books to make sure that we kept you alive for at least this year, but YOU are the only one who can tell us exactly what you are supposed to be like. You tell us every day.
Your full body, loud, room shaking laughs tell us that you have a wonderful sense of humor and a joy in your heart that is truly special. Your dad and I will do ANYTHING to make you laugh like that. Thank goodness no one is around in those moments to turn the camera on us. The crinkle in your brows when someone is upset and the way you cling to me in the moments when I need a good hug, even though you are now your own little independent guy, tell us that if we do our jobs right, you will be a kind, gentle human being. I can't tell you how important that is. I'm sure all parents think that their children are geniuses, but you shock us every day with how smart you are and the new things you pick up. You have shown a streak of mischief and a twinkle behind your eye that lead your grandma to call you David, just like in one of our favorite books to read. Your crazy hair makes us laugh, your eyes make me melt, and your smile expands my heart like a sponge every time you use it. The fact that you look just like your dad only makes me love you both even more. My blessings have literally multiplied.
One year ago today signaled the beginning of a whole new round of best days of our lives. Daddy and I waited patiently for you for many months, and then a little less patiently for a few days. Every morning when I woke up, I wondered if that was the day that would be your birthday. Even though my due date was June 9th, June 2nd seemed like a perfectly good birthday. So did the 3rd, the 4th, the 5th, and the 6th... Finally, it was time. Wait, was it time? There's no book that can fully explain that one. We'll get to that in a bit. Let me tell you another story. This time it will be one of the most important stories I have about one of the most important days, your birthday.
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Once upon a time, I woke up at two o'clock in the morning with a weird feeling. Being a big ol' pregnant woman who missed sleeping on her back and who missed sleeping in general, I didn't think much of it. I did get out of bed, however, for a trip to the bathroom. I decided to head downstairs in order to give Daddy a good night's sleep. My nights of peaceful slumber had come to a halt a few months ago, but I was still trying to preserve his because all people ever wanted to tell us about was how people with babies were like zombies who did not sleep or eat or doing anything for themselves. Sleep now! Freeze your meals! Buy adult diapers! Taking care of another human being means you will lose the ability to take care of yourself altogether! So not true. I digress.
Where were we? Oh yes, we were on the couch downstairs in our White Rose house trying not to wake Daddy before he had to get up for work. It was early, early morning on Thursday, June 7. It was so early that the only thing I could find on t.v. were infomercials. I usually love those things, but something in my stomach just wasn't sitting right (pasta for dinner? too much garlic?), and I needed a distraction. I had the CMT Awards on the DVR and thought that might be the perfect choice to entertain myself for a few minutes before slipping into a glorious couch slumber. Two and a half hours later, I was still wide awake. By that time, I was starting to wonder if my problems had less to do with indigestion and more to do with you. I watched some bad sitcom or another and drank lots of water while I debated whether or not I should wake up your dad. I convinced myself that it was probably nothing, and I didn't want to be the girl who cried baby. Plus, weren't contractions supposed to hurt more?
I decided that I would wait until 5 am to get Daddy up because that was just before he'd think about getting up for work anyway. I had been done with school for two weeks, so I had nowhere to be. I started to time the pains I was having just in case, and I wrote them obsessively on a post it note. It looked like something out of that movie A Beautiful Mind. Let me tell you, half an hour goes by awfully slowly when you count it a minute at a time.
At 4:59 I bounded up the stairs (ha! as much as any pregnant woman can bound) in order to get to Daddy at exactly 5:00. Excitedly, I shook him. He made a soft noise and rolled away. Again, I shook him. He moved a little more. Eyes still closed. One last shake... success! He was was a mixture of annoyed, shielding his eyes from the light entering from the hallway, and curious. Most importantly, he was listening.
"Okay, so Tom, it's probably nothing. I mean, for sure it's nothing. But... I've been up since two. I thought I had a stomachache, but it comes and goes, and it has been coming and going for a little while now. It could be contractions. I'm sure it's nothing, though, really. You should still go into work and be normal. You don't want to tell them that your crazy wife made you stay home for nothing. Nothing, that's what it is. Can we just move the doctor's appointment up today? Like, maybe not wait until 3:45 but a little earlier? I'm sure she'll say it's nothing."
Agreed. It was nothing, Dad would go to work, and we'd see if we could reschedule the appointment a little earlier. Whew problem solved. I went back to my station on the couch to wait out this something that was almost certainly not really anything. Daddy went off to work with promises to see me sooner rather than later, and I got myself a bowl of cereal. I continued with my obsessive tallying of the somethings that were really nothing and rejoiced that real programming was coming back on t.v. I couldn't help but feel bad for those poor Today Show anchors who were up so early that crazies like me were their only audience. I tallied some more.
After another hour or so, I decided that a shower might be just what I needed, so I took one. The doctor's office would finally be open when I got out, and I could see about switching that time. I got out of the shower, grabbed my phone, and called Daddy instead. "Um, Tom. Me again. Can you come home? Please don't tell anyone because it will be so embarrassing when you go back later today, and they find out that I didn't really have the baby. Maybe just come home and help me get to the doctor?" Daddy decided to humor me, and I was thrilled to have him on the way (although I felt bad for pulling him away from work for nothing). I dried my hair, taking frequent breaks to tally and hunch a little. Was this the real thing?
By the time Dad got home from work, I was starting to think it was possible. He called the doctor, and she gave us the go ahead to go to the hospital. The pains were more intense, and there was less time between them. Yet, the whole way to the hospital we kept talking about how weird it was. Weren't we supposed to be frantic? In the middle of the night? It was mid morning, the sun was shining, and we were calm... happy even. Strange.
We pulled into the hospital around 10 am. and made our way up to the maternity ward. Daddy announced to everyone at the nurse's desk joyfully, "We're here to check in!" They definitely didn't believe it was the real thing at that point. They were about to put us in a "wait and see" room (aka a how-long-can-we-wait-until-we-send-these-silly-kids-home room). Thankfully, a nurse decided to intervene and got me settled into a room a few minutes later. She checked to see if we were making any progress, then gave me a strange look. I just knew we were about to be sent home. Instead,
"Do you have a high threshold for pain?"
I shrugged, and she told me that I was already four centimeters dilated. We were staying! You were coming! I grinned at Daddy, excited that you were on the way, relieved that it was actually the real thing, and a little proud of myself for reaching warrior status (in one nurse's eyes at least). I got some help, and Dad got lunch. We shared our hospital news with just your grandparents and aunts and uncles, and we got ready for what we had been told would be a marathon. I found a channel on the hospital room t.v. that was like an aquarium with a constant stream of music, and I actually felt more relaxed than I had in days. Is it weird to say that it was a nice afternoon? Maybe, but it was.
Just a few hours later, Dr. F. came in to break my water. She was going to head back to the office and promised she'd be back in a few hours to deliver. You had other plans. A few minutes later, she informed us that she'd be staying, and you'd be introducing yourself soon. I was delighted. Daddy was terrified. He had a million questions: Where do I stand? Do I hold the camera now? Is this happening soon? I started to push, with the gentle music of aquarium channel guiding the turtles through the water and the sounds of the nurse telling Daddy to breath in the background. It was peaceful and lovely. We laughed, I pushed, the nurse told Dad that if he passed out, he would be ignored until the wife and baby were okay. I asked Dr. F. if it was always this easy (she told me later that no, it was not always this easy, and I should not share my story with other women because they would hate me. The nurses gave me a figurative badge of honor, which I still figuratively wear quite proudly). We laughed, I pushed some more, and it was just about time.
Things moved really quickly. Fifteen minutes. A head! Another minute. Almost there! One more minute. It's a boy! We embraced our very own little old man blondie newborn for the first time at 3:17 in the afternoon. I thought we would both cry, but we didn't really. We were just way too busy smiling.
Tyson Jerome Ferri. Perfection. Happy Zero Birthday!
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| Our first picture as a Ferri nice family of three :) |
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| Love at first sight |
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| Little old man |
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| Snuggles with Daddy |
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| You're tired? Hmm... |
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| Peaceful Mr. Handsome |
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We blinked, and it's your first birthday all of a sudden. This has been the most challenging year of bliss we've ever had. That totally makes sense, right? We are thankful each and every day that God has blessed us with the honor of being your parents. We will do everything in our power to make you as happy as you make us. We will protect you and push you and love you with all we have. We are so darn glad that you were born, and we are filled with glee each time we look at your face and realize that you are all ours. We're still smiling, Tyson/Ty/TJ/Bubba/Baby/David/Buster Brown/Mistah/whatever your name is.
We love you, Ty. Happy Birthday! Let's celebrate! :) Is the the real thing? You bet your sparkly blue eyes it is.
- Mom
