Almost four years ago, on March 4, 2003, I became "Mommy". Today was actually my due date, but I didn't start having contractions until the 3rd. If the doctors had listened to me, I would have had him on the 3rd, but you know how doctors are...yadda yadda yadda--I was forced to wait the night in the hospital. Finally, on the 4th, they realized that I was never going to have this baby without a little help (I think Patrick would still be on the inside if we had allowed labor to take its natural course), so we induced, shot me up with some drugs and had a relatively easy time after that. Three pushes and I was a parent.
I will never forget the first time I saw Patrick. It was comical and emotional at the same time. The doctor lifted him up and for some reason it surprised me--like he had actually pulled him out from underneath the bed and said "Tah-Dah!!!!" But a split-second later it all came together in my mind and I burst into tears. The greatest part was when I first held him. He had been screaming bloody murder and the second I spoke, he quieted and turned his head towards me. It was like he had known me for so long, why did I not know him as well? That was our first bonding moment, and it must've been a strong one, because we had a great time after that. He was such a good baby for me.
I think back to those first few months--and even though I hated the nighttime feedings and it seemed like I could never really get him to eat well, so I was completely lopsided for four months--I recall it as pure bliss. I remember creeping in his room at night and my eyes welling up as I watched him sleep. We spent all those beautiful spring days together, taking walks and sitting on the swing throwing the ball to the dogs. It was hard--because all babies are--but he made me so happy. I love you Patrick. You are my firstborn son and you mean the world to me. And even though you are a complete rascal, I am so proud of the little boy you've become. Happy 4th Birthday!!!
