Oh, Atticus, here we are. The day before your first birthday. The time when I write a really long, sappy post just for you. Ready, or not.
A year ago tonight, was really just like any other night.Thad and I stopped and got some Papa Johns pizza for dinner, because Aunt Sarah had mentioned during the day it sounded good, so I obviously had to have some for dinner. I'd been having a lot of Braxton-Hicks contractions, but didn't really think much of them since they're fairly normal. Night other than that was pretty normal.
But when I woke up the morning of the 24th, a Friday, something didn't feel right. Pretty regular BH contractions. Coming and going in waves. I tried to decide about going in to work, ended up getting dressed and starting my drive in. About halfway there, I had a gut feeling that I probably shouldn't be going in. So I turned around and went home. Sent a few work emails saying I'd be on after I made a quick trip to the doctor to get checked out.
Except it didn't quite happen that way.
Contractions were happening and didn't stop. Fluids didn't slow them down. Turns out, you were ready to make your entrance. Much to my freakout. 3 whole weeks early. I already had a c-section scheduled for March 13th! Not to mention, the rest of us were born on odd numbered days - how could you even think about being born on the 24th? But, the doctor said it was time to head to the hospital, though I had time to run home and grab my stuff. I called your dad, and though he had a feeling this was where things were headed, had still gone to work. He was going to meet me at home. He made some jokes to try and keep me calm (I was doing just fine, thank you).
Thankfully I'd at least mostly packed, just had to grab some last minute things. After I was all set and still waiting for your dad, I took a minute in the room you'd soon share with your brother. It was the one time that day I allowed myself to fully feel everything - excitement, nervousness, and sadness. I was ready to be done being pregnant, but I was going to miss out on the last 3 weeks. Thad was going to be picked up from daycare confused because mom and dad weren't there. I think that was the hardest part - not really getting to say "see you later" to Thad. His whole world was about to be turned upside-down, and no matter how we prepared him, I couldn't be there to help him adjust.
But I gathered myself, made sure arrangements were made for Thad, that our families knew what was going on. And then we were on to the hospital. Checked in, hooked up, and in no time flat into the OR. A short time later, there you were, screaming your way into our lives. A teeny tiny little dude - over two pounds less than your brother, you were 6 pounds, 2 ounces of little might. Everything seemed okay at first. As we were cuddling in recovery, your dad and I noticed you were grunting a bit as you breathed. The first time we asked, nurses weren't concerned, but the second time they decided to get you checked out.
Your dad kept me updated via text. Turns out you were struggling to breathe, and your chest x-rays showed you had some fluid in your lungs. Not entirely unexpected for a late-term premie born via c-section. But they had to keep you in the special care nursery. Later that evening, the nurse helped me up into a wheelchair and I was able to go down to see you. Even preparing myself, it was hard to see you hooked up to the wires and oxygen. I wasn't able to hold you too long - you were pretty sensitive to stimuli still.
The next week was full of firsts I wasn't expecting. First dealings with IVs in my baby. First time you met your brother - through a window. First time hearing the alarms of your vitals monitor showing your O2 or heartrate was below where it should be. First time dealing with acid reflux in a baby. First time recovering from a c-section by taking multiple walks to the nursery. It was tough. After learning that the fluid on your lungs had receded, but you had pneumonia and would have to be at the hospital for several days, it hit me hard. I was actually okay until the doctor said, "You guys look sadder today." Nothing since the morning of the 24th had gone how I had hoped. Sure, you were early, but you were still supposed to come home with me after 3 days. Celebrate Thad's 3rd birthday with us at home. I'm a planner. Not only were things not going to plan, I couldn't even kind of steer how they were going. In addition you also had to have a spinal tap to make sure you didn't have meningitis - that would have meant we had to send you to a bigger hospital in Kansas City. Thankfully, we were able to avoid that.
But slowly, you got better. With reflux medicine, you were able to keep your O2 up while you drank your bottle. You got to spend time out of the nursery. Then a night out of the nursery. Then they took the IV out of your head. And then on March 4th, you got to come home with us.
Minus a few setbacks, it's been growing and learning ever since. Even now, you're still pretty tiny, but oh-so-mighty. Walking everywhere, yelling up a storm, letting us know exactly when you're unhappy. Your eyes the bluest of blue that look right through me. Two little teeth, but the best of smiles you give with them. You love getting into everything, playing with anything that makes noise, stacking blocks. In an ideal world, your brother would let you play with any and everything he plays with. I hope that as time goes on, your relationship with Thad grows stronger and stronger. You two will always have each other. Don't forget that.
And, my baby, my hopes for you are as high as the sun. Just like for your brother. I hope I can raise you to be respectful and empathetic; to know that love is the greatest force on this planet. I want you to know that even in the darkest of times, hope will pull you through. That you can do anything you put your mind to. But most of all, I hope that you know that I will always love you. There will inevitably be times I'll be disappointed in you, but know that learning is a part of life, and I have to let you do that.
Don't get me wrong, I know there will be times I'll disappoint you too. I just hope in times that I am less than 100%, that you remember that I'm doing my best. It's hard, this life thing. So many people telling all of us so many different things, and being criticized for one wrong move. Your dad and I, we're doing our best. But that doesn't mean we won't make mistakes. I hope you can forgive us when we fall short.
The world can be a scary place. That doesn't change as you get older. Always remember that your dad and I will always be here for you. Regardless of time, place, situation - we are here for you. I hope by the time you get to be an adult, some things in society will have changed. No matter what the world looks like though, hold true to yourself. Let the people you love know you love them. Be strong, but don't be afraid to let your feelings show through. Love, and let yourself be loved. You might only be one, but I already know you're going to be a force. Don't let people hold you back, but be sure you listen to others. Be open-minded. Try to see all sides of an argument. Be informed. Be smart.
I'm not sure when you'll read this. But chances are, you're used to that rambling up there. (Even more chance that you've inherited it.) You may or may not know, that I'm better at expressing myself through writing than through words. Even if I ramble. I do want to say that I love you more now than I did the day you were born. And by the time you read this, I'll love you more than I do today. Forever and ever, my Atti.
Love,
Mom
Minus a few setbacks, it's been growing and learning ever since. Even now, you're still pretty tiny, but oh-so-mighty. Walking everywhere, yelling up a storm, letting us know exactly when you're unhappy. Your eyes the bluest of blue that look right through me. Two little teeth, but the best of smiles you give with them. You love getting into everything, playing with anything that makes noise, stacking blocks. In an ideal world, your brother would let you play with any and everything he plays with. I hope that as time goes on, your relationship with Thad grows stronger and stronger. You two will always have each other. Don't forget that.
And, my baby, my hopes for you are as high as the sun. Just like for your brother. I hope I can raise you to be respectful and empathetic; to know that love is the greatest force on this planet. I want you to know that even in the darkest of times, hope will pull you through. That you can do anything you put your mind to. But most of all, I hope that you know that I will always love you. There will inevitably be times I'll be disappointed in you, but know that learning is a part of life, and I have to let you do that.
Don't get me wrong, I know there will be times I'll disappoint you too. I just hope in times that I am less than 100%, that you remember that I'm doing my best. It's hard, this life thing. So many people telling all of us so many different things, and being criticized for one wrong move. Your dad and I, we're doing our best. But that doesn't mean we won't make mistakes. I hope you can forgive us when we fall short.
The world can be a scary place. That doesn't change as you get older. Always remember that your dad and I will always be here for you. Regardless of time, place, situation - we are here for you. I hope by the time you get to be an adult, some things in society will have changed. No matter what the world looks like though, hold true to yourself. Let the people you love know you love them. Be strong, but don't be afraid to let your feelings show through. Love, and let yourself be loved. You might only be one, but I already know you're going to be a force. Don't let people hold you back, but be sure you listen to others. Be open-minded. Try to see all sides of an argument. Be informed. Be smart.
I'm not sure when you'll read this. But chances are, you're used to that rambling up there. (Even more chance that you've inherited it.) You may or may not know, that I'm better at expressing myself through writing than through words. Even if I ramble. I do want to say that I love you more now than I did the day you were born. And by the time you read this, I'll love you more than I do today. Forever and ever, my Atti.
Love,
Mom













