November 9, 2002 is another day I remember extremely well. That is the day my youngest son was born. He was 5 1/2 weeks early. It wasn't easy getting him here. He almost didn't make it.
Five pounds, three ounces and 18 inches long. He was so small, but that was a good size for a preemie. They said they were going to observe him for four hours because he was so small. They took him away after I held him for a few minutes. I thought they would be bringing him back to me and I fell asleep. (Giving birth is hard work, it was almost 3 o'clock am, I was extremely tired.)
He ended up staying in the NICU for 10 days. My little guy had a tubes and wires connected to him. He was so fragile. I was up there with him as much as possible. His lungs developed but so did jaundice. He had to be under the lights. I went back and forth to the hospital.
Finally, the day came when I could take him home. The newborn outfit I brought for him to wear was too big. I was so happy to bring him home, I didn't care. Everything was too big. Somebody bought him some preemie outfits. They fit perfectly.
He was small for his age but that was all. No Down's Syndrome. No Spina Bifida. No Thalassemia. My baby boy was healthy. He grew and developed like any other child. He rolled over, sat up, crawled, walked, talked, etc. just like his brother had.
The next thing I knew, he wasn't a baby anymore. He was going to school, playing sports, and taking music lessons. He was a big boy.
He's ten years old now. Time flies by quickly. The next ten years will pass by quicker than the first ten. Then he will have a girlfriend, a high school diploma, a college degree, a wife, and a family of his own. But for now, he's still my little guy and I'm the number one lady in his life. I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.
Happy Birthday Son.
I love you even more today than I did
then.
