My Maxy-Moose, today you are six.
You false-started into the world a few days before 11/18/2008, sending me to Labor and Delivery not once but twice. On the 17th, I dropped your brother off at Grammy and Papa’s and had a light dinner and chatted through contractions that felt like they were starting to mean business. They kicked into gear as the sun went down, and I labored alone on the green couch, clutching your daddy’s iPod and timing contractions with an app that felt very futuristic.
In the middle of the night, they were three minutes apart and I woke up your dad and he drove me to the hospital. It only took a few hours for you to arrive. I remember resting on my left side and clutching the rail tightly and knowing exactly when it was time to roll onto my back and push. Your dad helped catch you, and it was peaceful even though it hurt. I reached for you and held you and nuzzled your sticky face while you nursed. You were always an easy nursling, even from that first moment we met.
Baby boy, you’ve always been my cuddle bug. You still purse your lips and “sucky face” when you’re sleepy and cuddling. You still carry around the blankies that I used as rags when I nursed you.
You make adorable noises when you’re making believe. You talk to yourself. You talk to everyone. You talk all the time. But you’re shy when you realize people are watching. My birthday wish for you, joyous little boy, is that you move through life without the brakes of self-consciousness. Don’t be shy, precious boy.
And always let me give you kisses.
And never cut your hair.