Saturday, June 22, 2013

Happy First Birthday, Alex!

Alex is a year old.  Yesterday was his birthday, and we celebrated by going to Santa's Village, where Andy rode a ton of rides and had a blast and Alex mostly glumly stared out from his vantage points in either the stroller or one of our arms.  Sorry, kid.  One is not a ton of fun.  You're not old enough to get it.  Now wait until next year, my sweet little boy.  Next year, you will love your birthday.

The first birthday is more about the mom anyway.  It's a day of reflection, and I found myself looking at the clock through-out the day thinking- this is when we left for the hospital, this is when I had my epidural, this is when the doctor came, this is when you were actually born, this is when I held you.  This is when I finally had my grilled cheese sandwich delivered from the slowest hospital cafeteria ever.  This is when Andy first peered at you.  This is when our lives changed forever, when Chris and I went from being two idiots with a kid to when we had our completed family.

Alex stole my heart from the very beginning.  I'd had the ridiculous, but common fear that I would not fall in love with my second child as quickly as I did my first.  Yes it is a common fear, and yes it is ridiculous, and yes, you are reading my blog and are therefore here to be on my side and not judge me.  Need I remind you?  My fear ran through my veins up into those last few hours, and it all became too overwhelming at one point.  I was getting my epidural, the contractions were starting to be painful, and I was going through the same motions from Andy's birth.  Sit on the edge of the bed, hug this pillow, and hunch over.  And I lost it.  I burst into tears and sobbed with such a lack of control that the nurse had to send the anesthesiologist out of the room so that she could hold me like a child for a second.  I couldn't put any of it into words.  I was going to have my second baby. The anticipation and fear and joyfulness and amazement and pain and wonder were all too much.

It took me a while to collect myself before they would proceed with the epidural.  I am suddenly reminded of the student in the room, who witnessed the epidural and the entire birth.  This was a high school student, not a college student.  She was a junior and was shadowing the nurse.  "Would you mind if what's her face here watches you give birth?" the nurse had asked me at one point.  If I had been in my right mind, I would have said no.  Do I really need to let this bubble gum popping high school girl see all of my business?  But I just kind of shrugged and thought, "Hey, what's one more person seeing my business today?  Why not?  It's a regular party in here, why not see if the janitor wants a peek?"

I can't remember the high school girl's name, but for a moment after my crying jag, when the nurse went back out of the room to retrieve the anesthesiologist, she and I were alone in the room together.  Yes, this girl was there for everything.  They had sent Chris out of the room, but the sixteen year old was allowed to stay.  I felt so awkward, sitting there, suffering through a contraction, and I had the sense that the girl was starting to feel like maybe she should have shadowed her uncle down at his accounting office for the week.  But, she was nice, and she smiled at me and said, "I guess this gets a little emotional, huh?"  I mumbled something forgettable in reply, and then I was back on the edge of the bed, hugging my pillow, hugging the nurse, and getting a long needle stuck in my spine.

Alex was born quickly.  That high school girl probably thinks that all births are as quick and easy as Alex's.  Don't tell her otherwise.  Alex's birth was almost painless, like clipping a toenail or how I imagine laying an egg might go.  And when I heard his cry, I felt something light and bright and soft.  My second baby was here. I got to hold him right away, unlike with Andy, where there was a delay of the episiotomical type.  They basically flopped Alex right back onto my chest, where that little guy immediately stopped crying (just like Andy) and gazed right up into my eyes.  These babies know their mama, that's for sure.  And, yes, I was in L-O-V-E.

I had told the nurse that I wasn't even going to try to breastfeed, that I would just give the baby some formula when he was ready.  Remember, you are on my side and not here to judge.  It was such an ordeal with Andy, that this time around, I had a very eh kind of attitude towards the whole thing.  Well, here comes baby Alex, staring right up into my eyes, and then, within a minute, he figures things out on his own, latches on, and just starts feeding.  Super instinctive, super easy.

How do you like that?  It's like this kid was trying to make me look stupid.

Maybe if Alex had been born first, we would have nursed right off into the sunset.  By the time we'd been home a couple days, though, it was clear that I personally wasn't able to juggle the curious almost two year old and the demands of nursing.  I know tons of other women can do it with tons more kids around the house, but I personally.... I guess it's just not for me.  If only Alex had shown as much interest as Andy did (little to none, that is), maybe I'd have felt a little less guilty about the whole thing.  But, hell.  It all worked out.

After Alex was born, the three nurses fought over his Apgar score while I held him. Two of the nurses wanted to give him a perfect 10.  The third nurse argued that they never give out a 10, and Alex should be a 9.  In the end, the two, much smarter nurses, won out, and Alex was deemed absolutely perfect, a 10/10.  And I couldn't have agreed more.  In honor of this top score, we almost named him Apgar instead of Alex, but we didn't want to make that third nurse any more bitter than she already was.

Our one night at the hospital, I held Alex for as long as I could before drifting off into a short, light sleep.  The next day, we asked the doctor to release us early so that we could go home to be with Andy, who had politely tolerated one night at his grandparents' but was clearly not interested in a second night after vaguely understanding that Mommy, Daddy, and New Baby were all off together somewhere without him.  He threw a fit of epic proportions, and by eight o'clock that evening, the four of us were together in our home.  Some of us were a little more jacked up than others.  But it was worth it for Andy.  And it was great to sleep in my own bed in my own pajamas drinking my own wine.  I'm kidding about the wine.  Or am I?

So, one year ago, we became a family of four.  In that one year, Alex has more than tripled his birth weight, has taken his first steps, has grown a bunch of teeth and somehow chipped one of them.  He has sprouted fine golden hair.  He has been smiling and giggling almost since the day he was born.  He has gone from sleeping in my arms to sleeping in the cradle next to my bed to sleeping in his crib in the room he shares with his brother.  He's outgrown his infant bath tub and takes big boy baths now with Andy.  He's long since stopped using his pacifier.  He loves food and toys and kisses and hugs.  And, as of yesterday, he's technically no longer an infant.  He's a toddler.  But, guess what.  He's still my baby.

I love you, Alexander.  Happy Birthday!

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