Happy 1st Birthday Little Man

I never thought I'd say that.  I never thought I would have kids - much less one, then two, then three!   The first two were girls - a ray of sunshine and a crashing wave.  Perfect symmetry.  One for each of us.  Then, whoa, pregnant.....thrilled for a minute, then...  Three?  There goes the symmetry.  Do I have enough for this?  Can I do this?  I'm 37 and starting again?  Are we nuts?  Well, we'll see. 

The months go by, the homebirth is planned, and I'm tired.  All the time I'm tired.  This is different from the first two times.  Wow, not so sure this was a good idea. I do not like to be at half throttle.  I do not like to seem like I need help.  I'm really not sure if I like this. 

The morning of May 6th is upon us like any other morning.  Getting kids ready for school, husband getting ready to head off for the day, but then it happens.  You're coming, and soon.  Our midwife comes and fifty-one minutes later you are born.  Here. Soft. Warm. Beautiful. 

This birth was different.  Quiet, at home, such depth of relief afterward that just was not possible at a hospital.  Surrounded by family and loved ones while our eldest plays with friends, and our youngest (wait - now middle!) crawls into bed with us and falls asleep.  Quiet.

And oh how they love you, your big sisters.  From day one they have doted over you, have been able to make you laugh like no one else can.  Our eldest, your protector; our middle, your entertainer; and you, the sweet little beach ball who happily bounces giggling between them. 

The love in this house was multiplied by your arrival, sweet little surprise.  Such a blessing you have been from the start. 

When you were tiny, still brand new, you would fall asleep on my chest (you only do this for Daddy now).  He would look over at me and say, "Look at you with that baby boy. You know what you are?  Smitten."

Happy Birthday Little Man.

Under the Oak Tree

This morning I sit under the giant oak in our backyard.  Just me, my empty tea cup, and the breeze.  As an introvert, a mother of three happy, spirited children and wife to a very boisterous man, moments like these are indeed sacred to me. 

Ah, but here starts (and stops thank heavens!) a leaf blower, and Benjamin, now six months, has awoken from his nap.  So he joins me on the deck, happy to babble at the breeze and laugh at the outside sounds he hears, some for the first time.  Again, sacred. 

This is what I hope this blog will be about - the sacred moments that flow in and out of one another and, hopefully, my ability to flow with them.