2 Years

Two years ago, I had been in real, actual labor for about two hours. Contractions were regular and not intense, but were definitely different than the ones I'd been having on and off for the previous two weeks. Susan, Jessica, Jason and I had eaten black beans and rice for dinner (we make our black beans with salsa and pineapple, so maybe there's something to the old wive's tale that pineapple can jumpstart labor) and were watching TV, maybe America's Best Dance Crew. Around 10:00pm, I decided to go to bed and try to get some sleep, knowing that within the next day, my life was going to be forever changed in ways I didn't yet understand.
I didn't sleep; I layed in bed for two hours and watched the minutes pass. By the time I asked Jason to draw a bath, I was in a different frame of mind. Somehow, I let my head and my body almost separate; I tried to just let my body do what it knew how to do. We went to the hospital around 2:00am, and my contractions were one on top of the other; they were so intense and I was so sure I was in transition. I wasn't, or at least my cervix hadn't caught up with the contractions. When the nurse told me I was only at 3cm, I was devastated and immediately asked for an epidural, something I had wanted so much to avoid. However, at that point, I was more worried about being so exhausted that I couldn't push and an epidural seemed to me the better choice. I believe my exact words were, "where is the God-forsaken anesthesialogist?" :) Jason, Jess and Susan can better attest to that. In addition to those three, my mom and my sister were both with me in our room, offering their emotional support.
I finally got my epidural around 7:00am and 7cm, and somehow an hour later, it was time to push. I was fortunate that the epidural was light; it really just took the edge off, so when it came time to push, I could feel Ethan moving down the birth canal, could feel his tight, slick body making it's way into this world. My nurse, Ailene, was phenomenal. She asked me to push three times with each contraction and was patient when I told her I just couldn't. She explained why I needed 3-- one to make up for the backslide, one to push him down further, and one to keep him from sliding, but told me that if I could only push twice, that was okay. Looking at her, at Jason on my right side, Jess on my left and feeling Susan's gentle reminders to relax in between contractions, I felt encouraged to push 3 times with each contraction. When he crowned, I reached down and felt his head, his hair and wanted even more just then to meet this boy who had been growing inside of me.
When he was born and put onto my chest, before he was wrapped in the white blanket with a pink and blue stripe, before his chest and nose were cleared, before he was weighed, he was given to me and my world shifted. When he was born to us, I was born his mother. His tiny cry, more like the mew of a kitten, made tears well up in my eyes and though I've never considered my heart small by any means, I felt like the Grinch at the end of the movie, as my heart seemed to swell in such a rush of emotion, thumping like it was going to burst through. As long as he was in my arms, I didn't care what else happened around me. I had never felt such true joy before that minute.
And now, that sweet baby is going to be 2. Tomorrow moring, he will be two years old. A toddler, no longer a baby, though he's small for his size. He is a talker; he said his first word at 9 months ("doggie") and has never stopped. His laugh is infectious; he already has such a developed sense of humor. He loves music and dancing; I love when he puts his arms up and steps from side to side when he hears a song he likes. He asks to hear "Daddy sing," for Gabba songs and most recently, "Baby Down Down Down." He loves the color green and still uses a pacificer. He's still nursing, though we're in the process of weaning. He has been sick twice ever; once last December when Jason had the flu and once last May, when he had the beginnings of an ear infection. He calls all blankets "gigi's," loves to fly on airplane and likes to play both the drums and guitar. He has my cowlick, my father's cowlick and my angry face. He's just barely 24lbs and in size 18 months, but I think it's because he never ever stops moving.
I am a fortunate girl to have such a supportive family, to have such an intelligent, devoted group of friends, to be married to my best best friend, all of whom have changed me and made a difference. But no one person has ever made the difference that Ethan has made. He has made me want to be a better person, to not just have dreams, but to make them happen, so that I can be a good example for him. He has taught me true patience, unconditional love and humility.
Happy 2nd birthday, Ethan. I more than love you.