My little Timbit is one!

How time flies when you’re care giving three children under the age of 5!

How can I begin to tell my story and how grateful I am that you are in my world. So many people said it will be hard and it was. So many friends warned that it will be busy and it is. My parents told me that a third will be a big blessing and you are. My in-laws told me that your sisters will never leave you alone and they don’t. Strangers would often comment about how sweet you are and how beautiful you are- and true enough, that you are but also more…so much more.

You are so calm my baby and ever so sweet. You are patient and content. You don’t yell unnecessarily and you never cry unless you need to make a point. Your tears are rare and your laughter is sincere and heard often. You are busy, inquisitive, observant, persistent, intelligent and oh so charming. You wave at strangers and smile at everyone. You are loved and adored by anyone who meets you. People of all ages in Church, in the stores, in the airport and everywhere we go are compelled to talk to you and compliment you. Your good nature and unlimited tolerance of your sister’s affections and antics have perfectly summed up our family unit. You completed us from the day you were born.

Your touch on my face when I am rocking you to sleep is like the flutter of an angel’s wing You are gentle with your sisters and strong. You let the middle sister sit on you and roll on you and all you do is laugh. She kisses you so very often and you give her the gummiest smiles. She calls you “her Timtim” and defends you vehemently. She
fiercely protects you with every ounce of her little 3-year-old body when someone new tries to touch you or hold you.  Your eldest sister can’t stop telling the world about her “cutest brother ever!” She introduces you to everyone and every morning you bring a smile to her face. She comes home and always asks about you and she can’t hide her disappointment when you are asleep. She can’t stop asking you “Do you know how adorable you are? Do you?”

Timothy, you have fought through the first week of your life to get to this point. I wasn’t able to hold you until you were 3 days old. In the NICU, I missed your first bath and your first diaper change. I missed your first wakefulness from slumber induced by medicine and machines. I was recovering in my postpartum unit intended for moms who had a tough c-section. I would hear the cries and coos of other babies and see daddies pacing the floors back and forth to put their angels to sleep and I would instantly long for you. I knew you were cared for and loved. I knew that the nurses were able how to take care of you but it still deeply stung. I woke your father up at 3 am the same day you were born and asked a nurse to bring me a wheelchair so I can come visit you. They were telling me that I need to heal. My wound from the surgery was fresh but I just needed to see you. I wanted you to know that I am here even though I knew you wouldn’t remember. I wanted to pray in gratitude for this gift that God saw me fit for.

Daddy wheeled me over to you and you were asleep. The nurse told me that you are a wonderful charge and that she loved you already. I was envious of her. I was glad that she was so caring and nurturing but deep inside I felt resentful that you too had been taken away from me. I waited my love for 15 minutes but you did not stir. I knew I needed to rest so I can take care of you when you recover. I went back to my room and I dreamt all night of your sweet scent that would surely surround me when the time came.

I woke up the next day and longed again for you. They had to check me to ensure that I am healing and so I remained in my bed until I was cleared to visit you again. I pumped for you so they can stick my colostrum in a tube to feed you. I visited you many times that day and I was told that I still can’t hold you. The hardest part is seeing you struggle to breathe. Seeing you trying to get comfortable in the bed without much success. I could almost feel you shiver and shake with loneliness. You were inside my body. We were so connected and now you are so alone and we were so divided.

How can it be that after being a part of me for nine long months, you can be removed and yet I can’t even touch you?

Finally, on day three, they tell me I can hold you. An experienced nurse removes your tube and asks me to nurse you. How do I describe that moment? The moment when you are placed in my bosom? How can words explain to you the complete feeling of utter joy and relief I felt? I wish I had the vocabulary to draw a picture of the instantaneous and intense feelings of protection and overwhelming love that saturated me that moment.

You were so little. So fragile yet such a fighter. I was so proud of you. You were annoyed with those machines and wanted the freedom to breathe on your own. You were garnering your strength and procuring your energy to fight another day. But that moment when I held you…oh that moment… you knew.

You knew that I was the same body you were once a part of. You knew my scent, my breath and my voice. You opened one eye and looked at me intently then closed it again, sighed and nuzzled closer to my breast. I can feel your little body relaxing as the tension seeped out completely. You were pliant. You were trusting. You were finally home.

Timothy, you are a bright ray of sunshine and a constant reminder for me to fight. You have taught me so much in the first year of your life. You are such a blessing to your father, your sisters and me. I wish I can capture every expression and every sound you make but nothing can pay justice to how perfect and how adorable you are.

I guess this is mommy’s long-winded, wordy (as usual) and most sincere way of saying “Happy 1st Birthday Timbit” and Happy BIRTHday to me too since you were my gift on this day last year!

Daddy and I adore you.

I love you eternally and unconditionally.