My Baby is Five

My baby is five. It feels like a big number, and as I sit here before he wakes, the living room awash in the glow of the Christmas lights, it all comes back to me.

How my water broke three weeks early, while Karl was busy untangling the lights. How I expected everything to move so quickly, like you see in the movies. The blur of childbirth, asking the midwives to give me one more hour to push before we explored the option of a C-section, knowing my body could do this, and it did.

The murmur of people around the room as they laid my baby on my chest. Holding him awkwardly, unsure of my new promotion to mama. The burst of love surrounding Kaiser and I, as people busied about us.

I remember how hard breastfeeding was, and how much I felt like a failure. Being released from the hospital at 11pm, and how the heat was out in the house. Having to go get literal midnight oil to warm it again. How afraid I was to be alone with him.

The sleepless nights, the cluster feedings, the heart murmur, the plagiocephaly, the febrile seizure, the postpartum anxiety.

Hearing you say “bahb-eyew” (I love you) for the first time, the way your presence calms me instantly. Seeing you take care of your brother, share your toys, get him a bandaid when he gets a boo boo. Hearing the sound of your laughter, and seeing that mega-watt smile light up the entire world. My entire world.

I am irrevocably changed. And I am so deeply thankful that you chose me for your mama, my sweet Kaiser. Thank you for the greatest Christmas gift ever. I love you big as the sky.