Happy First Birthday, William!

Dear William,

One year ago today, your father and I welcomed you into our arms and into our lives. You were born at 6:35 a.m. at the Robert E. Bush Naval Hospital here in Twentynine Palms, after a very long night of labor. When they placed you on my chest, your eyes were open. You looked around the room, while I just stared at you, marveling that your eyes were open and noticing that your tiny perfect little fingernails were still tinged with blue. I was exhausted, stunned and awed.



















Your daddy was relieved that you arrived safely, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sag with that relief. Vaguely I heard him ask someone--anyone--to give you some oxygen. (Later he explained that it was hard for the daddy part of him to shut off the doctor part of him; the blue fingernails got him all worried, even though he knew that you were perfectly fine.) I couldn't stop looking at you. I just couldn't believe you were here at last! It was you. I felt like I knew you and yet didn't know you at all. I think I introduced myself to you, then a member of the hospital staff took you off to the warmer to clean you up. A few minutes later, they brought you back to me so that you could learn how to nurse. I remember singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in a very hoarse voice to you, as I held you, wrapped in a hospital blanket and topped with a little pink-and-blue knit cap. At some point, a nurse dressed you in a diaper and tiny little hospital T-shirt. Your daddy spent a lot of time holding you over the next few hours, talking to you, looking at you.















The rest of that day, our first day together that began just after dawn, is sort of a blur. I remember eating the most glorious plate of waffles ever for breakfast, and I remember that your daddy made a whole slew of calls to family and friends from his cell phone. I remember people coming by to see you and saying how handsome you were. And I remember how your father carefully changed your diapers and swaddled you in a blanket before holding you or lying you in the little bassinette next to my bed.

A year has passed. So much has happened. You have changed so much!



















We took you to see a major league baseball game in Anaheim today in honor of your first birthday, and I remarked how much more fun it was to be watching home runs at the stadium than it was to be recovering from childbirth in a hospital. But more importantly, it was more fun to be with you, as you giggled at the beach balls floating through the crowds and pointed with curiosity at the cotton candy man. Your daddy and I laughed along with you. It was a great way to spend your first birthday.
















I just want to say two more things. One, I'm so glad you're here and that you're you! And second, your father and I love you so very much that I think you'll have to be a parent yourself one day to fully understand what that means.

Happy First Birthday, William!

Love, Mommy