Lane is One
I remember feeling in my bones that you were coming. You didn’t blow in like a force, as your brother did, or struggle for hours on end making your dramatic appearance, as your sister did. Rather you came gradually, a steady but slow build-up. I sat in your nursery chair, in the middle of that cold, cold night, just breathing deeply and counting the seconds of your movements calmly and quietly.
I woke your Dad up early that morning, and told him it was time to go to the hospital, that you were coming. “Could we stop at Chickfila on the way?” he asked. Definitely not. Once you decided it was time, contractions progressed quickly, and on the road to the hospital, they were already 4 minutes apart!
Once we checked in, I remember having to wait what felt like an eternity for a vital check before being admitted to the Natural Birthing Center. By the time we had been cleared for the Center, they had to wheel me to a room because contractions were so close together.
In all three births, I distinctly remember one clear moment when I thought, “I don’t know if I can do this (naturally).” For your sister, it was during transition, lying on my side with searing pain in my hips. For your brother it was getting violently ill in the bathroom and then enduring the worst car ride of my life to the hospital. But for you the moment was briefest — sitting in the hospital room bathroom just feeling the pressure of you coming, and feeling unable to move or breathe. The sheer weight of your presence in my body. Momentary, and then the anticipation of meeting you overwhelmed the doubt and fear, and I held you thirty minutes later. 9:01 in the morning, just as the snowstorm settled in.
What a sweet reward! I first noticed your shock of dark hair and then your strong cry. Your piercing entrance arrested us all, and we knew the strength of your tiny presence immediately. You would be soothed only on your own time, a telling glimpse of the personality God already formed.
Postpartum rooms were all full that morning, so we were allowed to enjoy our hospital stay in the large, new Birthing Center room. I was thankful that we had a double bed, so that you, your Dad, and I could all snuggle in. Unfortunately, Dad had a horrible cold, and even went to the doctor the day after you were born! So while he spent the nights at home, I got time to learn you on my own, although you also spent some night stretches in the nursery to allow me some extra rest.
Rhetta and Dad brought your Sissy and Bubby to meet you around dinner time on your birthday. It was a tumultuous meal, with everyone vying for attention of course, but also fighting over Laney kisses! Rhetta called you “big eyes” upon meeting you, so fitting even almost one year later. Your expressive, bright eyes are one of my most treasured attributes of you.
We brought you home on your third day of life. You were so tiny, that only knotted gowns fit you properly. Those first days held equal parts difficulty and sweetness. Difficulty of a barely two year old boy meeting this new season with much anger and wanting. But sweetness of your little snuggles and perfect newborn breathing and the pure joy of knowing you outside rather than within.
And although this baby season is closing, the joy of knowing you continues. We watch and trust and wait, as your little self unfolds more by the day. We close your first birthday with our hearts full of gratitude for your little big life, that is still just beginning!
