I cannot believe it but my little guy is turning 2. Two!
I remember finding out I was pregnant. Seeing that second line and waking D up to see whether he saw it too. Then the uncertainty of a second pregnancy test that said I wasn’t pregnant.
I remember telling all four parents that they were all going to be grandparents for the first time.
I remember sitting in the same chair I’m sitting in now when I felt him kick/move for the first time.
I remember how annoyed certain family members were that we didn’t want to know if he was a he or a she.
I remember the day he was born. I remember all the tests I did to make sure he was ok and then being told my fluids were too low, it was almost 41 weeks, time to have a baby.
I remember 34 hours of medically induced labor and never progressing.
I remember D announcing in the room after delivering E that he was in fact a he. I remember asking D if he was sure and D turning to the anesthesiologist for confirmation.
I remember holding him and kissing him.
I remember the fear when his billirubin number was too high and how much he looked like an alien under that heat lamp.
I remember being told I wouldn’t be able to nurse him (boy was that lactation consultant wrong!).
I remember taking him home thinking he’s really ours. He’s real.
I remember moments being so tired I would literally hallucinate.
I remember sitting in this same brown chair just staring at him or holding him on my shoulder.
I remember the first item he traced (the red yoyo) the Chanukah after he was born.
I remember the first time carrying him across the room when he lifted his head himself.
I remember tummy time and trying to get him to turn his head.
I remember that infection and sitting with him in the hospital while nurse after nurse tried to take his blood. Only to find out the sample was just contaminated and he was going to be fine.
I remember the first time he sat up being so surprised and impressed.
I remember all the hugs, the smiles.
I remember his first day of daycare and how I barely survived.
I remember the first time he walked.
I remember how excited he was when we moved into our new house. How thrilled he was to go to “my room.”
I remember all those words he now says so effortlessly.
I remember his first sentence from just a few days ago: “No daddy haha.” And another sentence from tonight: “Mommy sit down.”
And I remember how much I love him. And how much I miss him still when I’m away. And how much I miss bed time when I have a late meeting. And how much I love the way he runs up to me when I go to pick him up from daycare.
He is my baby. And will always be. But today he turns 2. And in many ways he’s not my baby anymore. He’s growing up. Becoming more independent. And while that’s good — and I’m glad — it’s still hard. I still think of him as my little baby.