Three

Dearest Bubba,

Today you turn three, and I promise to write you a letter every year so we can laugh about all you have done in a twelve month period. Lots of it will be silly, and funny, but sometimes it will be sad and heartfelt. So, here we go, my little dude.

Since turning two, you seemed to take The Terrible Twos as a challenge, and you rose to it magnificently. I cannot begin to explain to you how many times I have told you to stop jumping off the couch, or how much I have shrieked at you to get off the baby because he is NOT a horse. You acquired a love for stuffed puppies, and hard plastic dinosaurs. You fell in love with and out of love with homemade enchiladas quicker than any person I have ever known. Cheddar cheese and Greek yogurt became a staple in your diet, and we were pleased to see you eating everything in sight.

We took you to an Orthopedic doctor about your bowed legs, and he told us to switch your shoes to the wrong feet and it would fix you right up. I thought the man was mad, loony, crazy, but to my chagrin it worked. Your legs straighten out, and you started to fall down less when you ran... You still fall down quite a bit, but I suspect that is because you have the genes of a klutz running strong in you. You have had at least two concussions and very likely fractured your nose, or broke it... The ER visits for you are almost as high as Little Baby.

The biggest change in your life has been that Daddy deployed this year. While you are perhaps our most challenging kid, I suspect Daddy misses you something fierce. You are his miniature, and we both went through such hell to make sure you survived. Watching you say goodbye to Daddy at the airport when he had to leave was heart breaking. For days, you wandered around the house asking "Daddy??" in every room. I am not sure what was more sad, seeing you do that, or one day suddenly realizing you had stopped looking for him. It has taken literal months for you to want to Facetime with Daddy on the tablet, and I know for a fact you want to talk to him, to see him, to hear him.. Today, on your big third birthday, you happily chatted with your Daddy and I think we both wanted to cry with happiness.

Bubba, you are such a tough little guy - so naughty, so smart, so sweet all at the same time. The stubborn soul that carried you through the NICU and helped you survive infancy is the thing we love the most about you. Your sheer will and determination for life is amazing to behold. There is not a single thing you need to change about yourself my love, and I hope you grow up knowing that.

Happy Birthday, Jamie.

You are kind,
You are smart.
You are strong.
You are brave.
You are important.

I love you, always.

Fleeting Moments

As a mother, there are some things you feel so deeply, it takes your breath away. Women, in general, have this weird quirk laying under the surface... I just think mothers let it lay at the surface. We cry with joy over first steps, first foods, and first birthdays. We weep with sadness over first concussions, first failed cartwheels, and first vomiting episodes. We laugh ourselves to tears over silly butt shaking dances, accidental projectile snotty sneezes, and the inevitable turn around right into the wall moments.

The moments that take your breath away are not things people without children would even understand. Not really. You can feel moments deep in your heart over your nieces, nephews, and God children, but the way one feels about their own children is so special. You feel them grow inside your body. You labor over them. You watch them breath, and if you are the mother of a preemie, beg for them to breath. You smell the tops of their heads, and kiss them so many times you couldn't possible count that high. It's different, to be a mother. So very different. You can tell your friends that it doesn't, or won't change you, but it is a lie... a bold faced lie.

I tried to pretend having the children didn't change me, and perhaps after we had Sassy, I was basically the same. Bubba was the game changer for me, I think. Something in my heart shifted when he came bursting into life too early. Ah, and then there is Little Baby. Who wouldn't be changed by the kid that almost killed you... I can say that last thing with a bit of humor now, but I assure you.. it is no joke. I love these children. They are mine... for now. One day, all too soon, they will be grown up people, far too busy to call me as much as I want. Far too busy for me to kiss them as much as I want.

That is why we do things like this....

Those are laundry baskets with a pillow inside, a bowl full of popcorn, a cozy blanket, and a movie on. We had a movie date. The boys were so, so, SO excited. My friend, Lovely, is the one who suggested this, and I feel she is the best gal for sharing. This is my fleeting moment today. This moment will never happen again. Not ever. We can try to recreate this moment, but it will never be the same. The joy of this brand new experience will never happen again.

The cruelest thing about having a baby, is that they grow up. My advice, dear readers, is to take joy in your fleeting moments. Cry if you have to, but hang on to these moments.. they are so precious.

On the 20th

Friday, March 20th, Middle child will be two-years-old. For some parents, reaching two is not as big of a deal as when their child reaches one. For us, it is somewhat different. Let me tell you why.

Two years ago, I lay in a hospital bed, 32 weeks and 5 days pregnant. My water had broke at 29 weeks and 6 days, and from that day forward, I lay in a hospital bed. My sole job was to grow a tiny human for as long as possible. I was in a city that I had never seen. I was away from my husband, my sweet daughter, and my lovable idiot of a dog. My parents were in a completely different state, and my friends could only come see me a few times, because I was just so far away. To say I was miserable puts it mildly. The quiet that lives inside a hospital is deathly scary, especially when you have an all consuming fear that your tiny human might die... because that can happen, even in the best of hospitals, inside the best of NICU's. It can happen, and it is freaking scary.

I kept middle child in, and growing, until I was exactly 33 weeks pregnant, and out he came that very night. I went from posting on Facebook about how all was well, to posting a picture of us holding the tiniest person I have ever held. He was more cables, cords, and wires than person. Two years ago, something inside me broke, and to this day I doubt it will ever be fixed. I delivered a four pound baby into the arms of strangers, and I was able to hold him for three minutes before I wasn't allowed to see him again for three hours. My son. The first grandson... Tucked away in a plastic case, with life support, and nurses, and doctors, and momma and daddy could do nothing. I prayed. I cried. I raged.

Magically, under the kindness and understanding of the NICU staff, I learned to care for a preemie. I watched him gain weight, keep his body temperature up, and learn to eat. He was feisty. My heart ached and yearned to take him home, but I never, ever asked the nurses when they thought we would be able to leave. I waited. And we only had to wait for three weeks.

Then suddenly we were home with a five pound baby that never stopped crying. I was heartbroken once again - every time he would nurse he would cry, but if he wasn't nursing he would cry. Our daughter was so used to hearing him cry, that it was always the first thing she told people about Bubba... "He sure cries a lot." I remember my amazing mother-in-law coming for a visit, and saying that she made an off handed remark to a co-work about "how bad could it really be?". She said she was sorry for thinking that, because after spending a of couple days with us, with his crying, she knew. The doctors put him on a special formula for milk allergies, and suddenly he was not crying anymore. He was still feisty, but not crying and that was amazing to me.



In the first year, we waited for smiles, for crawling, for walking, and for talking. He reached one and it was a HUGE deal for us. He survived the first year! We did a happy dance.

Then we began waiting for him to reach all the milestones - fine motor skills, gross motor skills, social/emotional... We waited for the day when the doctors stopped adjusting for age, and for them to tell us he didn't need any therapies because of his premature birth. Preemies have until age two to catch up - and he did! He will go off for a consult with Ortho because he has bowed legs, and that may have nothing to do with him being a preemie. He also has under gone some blood tests to see about his food allergies, but again that may have nothing to do with him being a preemie.

He is still my most difficult child - the one I worry about constantly, and find myself wondering just exactly who he is. I can't figure him out, not the way I have Girl Child and Little Baby figured out. He is naughty in an intelligent way. He rarely smiles for the camera. He loves Legos and things with wheels. He loves to eat. He hates being upside down. He screams louder than any person I have ever known. He throws up on me, bites me, kicks me, and then cozies up to me and says "Luufff yoouuu".

So, I have this to say to him -

Dearest Middle Child,

No. Little baby is not a step stool, and neither is the dog... either of the dogs. Sissy is not your slave, so please stop pointing at things and demanding them in one word sentences. Daddy loves you very much, try really hard to stop running head first into his junk - ouchie. Momma desperately wants to sleep past five in the morning, so please try really hard to stay asleep.

You owe me kid. Big time. I aim to collect. I will embarrass you and you will definitely think you will die from it... But you won't. I will always kiss you right on the lips, and I don't even care if you hate it or you wipe it off afterwards. There will always, always be more food - stop acting like you don't know when your next meal will be.

You are mine and I am yours and there ain't shit you can do about that. I love you, James T. Keep growing - keep getting stronger, faster, and smarter.

Your Momma


...................

Happy Birthday, buddy.