527,040 Minutes

Just minutes after you were born

Dear Finnegan,

Five hundred twenty-seven thousand forty minutes ago, I heard you cry for the very first time.  One year ago today, at 4:11am, you were born (this year was a leap year, if you're doing the math).

It seems like just yesterday that I was waiting impatiently to finally be able to hold you, but as I look back over the events of your first year, I find it hard to believe that all this happened in just a year.

The first few months were just a blur.  You ate every two hours, and if you were late getting your food, you were not happy - and you made sure everyone knew it. And then the hours between 6-10?  All you did was cry. No, that's not true.  You cried if I didn't rock you and cuddle you and let you nurse constantly.  Most of those evenings we spent upstairs in your nursery, me watching videos on my computer while I held you and and kissed your fuzzy head and waited for sleep.  I didn't go out much those first few months, and you were happy to stay at home, too.

Just when it was time for me to go back to work, you started to go longer between meals.  And when you started to go longer between meals, you were happier for longer periods of time.  Your sweet personality started to come out, and I fell in love with you all over again.

About that time was when you had your first MRI.  The few months right around your diagnosis with neuroblastoma were dark and scary days for me.  But you were such a trooper through it all.  The way you charmed the nurses and doctors taking care of you and smiled through all but the worst days were such a blessing. I would look at your chubby little face and wonder how it was possible you had cancer.  And then you surprised us all by kicking cancer's ass.  No one knows how you did it, but your tumor continues to shrink, and I am so thankful.  I still worry about it, every day.  (You might as well get used to me worrying, because I don't think it will ever stop.)

The next few months were full of firsts.  First tooth, first Halloween, first solid food, first Thanksgiving, first Christmas... Looking at you now, it's hard to remember the days before you were able to sit up on your own or crawl, and soon I'll find it hard to remember what life was like before you were able to walk.  Soon, but not too soon, please.  I like watching you crawl.

Today, on your birthday, you're starting to look like a little boy. You have a full head of hair, and seven teeth in your mouth.  You babble and look at me as if I'm supposed to understand what you're saying.  You do understand what I'm saying some of the time, and will occasionally grant me a huge, slobbery, open mouth kiss when I ask for one, but usually you'll just blow me a kiss instead.  You aren't a huge cuddler, but every morning when I sit down to put on my makeup, you insist on sitting on my lap.  We still sleep together, and you like to make sure that one foot or hand is touching me at all times.  Occasionally - just occasionally - you'll even snuggle.

You love books.  I love to read, and have been trying to cultivate a love of reading in you, too. Of course, it's too early to tell, but the way you pick up books and study the pages so intently makes me think you're impatient for the day you'll finally be able to read the words yourself.  We have our favorite books to read, and you now anticipate some of the words and sound effects that I make to go along with them.  I love watching you smile when we get to the parts you like the most.

I try to fill the house with music, because when you hear a song you like, you can't keep your little body still.  You bounce up and down, and - when you really like the song - wave your hands in the air as you dance.  Maybe you'll be lucky and have some musical talent, but even if you don't, I know you'll grow up loving to listen to all sorts of music - opera to rap and everything in between.

It's so easy to make you laugh.  A funny face.  A silly noise.  A tickle in just the right spot.  The cats brushing their tails on your leg.  Sometimes I hit on just the right thing and you laugh uncontrollably.  I laugh right along with you, sometimes so hard it makes me cry.

I wonder if you'll ever be mad at me for not giving you a dad.  I hope you'll know how very much I wanted you, and understand that I just couldn't wait any longer to find you a dad - I had to have you on my own before it was too late to ever have a baby.  I am so glad I made the decision to be your mom.  I loved you before I ever met you, and now that I've met you...I love you more than I ever thought possible.

Happy Birthday, my little man.  May this be the first of many happy and healthy birthdays to come.

Taken on your last day of being Zero