Let Him Eat Cake

“God schedules a birthday, not man.”  ~Robert Bradley

Indeed!  Seven years ago, our lives were forever changed by the delivery of the biggest miracle, wrapped in the tiniest package.

On September 9, 2005 at 6:11p.m., our son came into this world.  He weighed in at a tiny two pounds, one-half ounce and was just thirteen inches in length.  I remember hearing my mother say, over and over, in a hushed voice, full of disbelief and wonder, “He’s so tiny.  He’s so tiny.  Oh, my God…he’s just so tiny.”

I may eventually write more about what brought us to his unexpected, early delivery some day, but today, my thoughts have been with him.

It’s been a rather tough day for all of us.  Kiddo has been difficult from the time he got up – yelling at us for singing “Happy Birthday” to him this morning (apparently, it’s only appropriate to sing when you’re going to have cake!), having a big enough melt-down in the van on the way to church (after the third try in getting out the door) that we turned around and came home, and ending the day with another tantrum that lasted for over thirty minutes and (I’m sure) was heard by half the neighborhood.

And, while his behavior has made for an incredibly long and stressful birthday, I’m still happy we had some fun together this afternoon.  My parents and oldest sister (and her family) joined us for cake and presents and then we had the chance to go to another family event for a while.  He did really well throughout that chunk of time, so the day was not without some bright moments.

But my favorite time with him was tonight, as he was getting ready for bed.  He was in his jammies, sitting over my leg, with his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders as we said our prayers and did our “night-night, sleep-tight” routine.  When we finished, he was silent for a little longer than usual.  I was, too.  I don’t know for certain what he was thinking, but I know I was remembering his arrival into this world, and the jumble of emotions I felt that evening.

We both held each other a little longer tonight, and gave lots of extra smooches.  I buried my nose in the crook of his neck, and breathed in his smell – that wonderful scent of my kiddo that I could pick out of a crowd while blindfolded.  He laughed that it tickled, and I told him I’d stop, requesting one last kiss before he skipped off to bed.

My boy has been through a lot.  Not just today, but in the seven short years he’s been on this planet.  So, while today has had plenty of challenging moments, it has also had great love and connection, and that’s what I’ll try to hold onto as I drift off to sleep.

I peeked in on him just as he was falling asleep tonight, and saw the smile on his face as he was drifting off.  No doubt, he was thinking about the fun he had, too…and that extra piece of cake he got this afternoon.  I gently stroked his back, thinking of how much he has grown, marveling at the young man who is appearing before me.

And I know that’s going to continue to change.  My baby is slipping away, and there is a sweet, smart, funny boy who is taking his place.  But he’ll always be my baby, and I’ll always remember just how tiny and perfectly formed he was when he entered this world.

I know I’ll slip quietly into his room one last time, right before I go to bed, just like I’ve done every night since he’s been home.  I’ll gently place a kiss on his head, take a whiff of that sweet smell that is uniquely his, and marvel at the beautiful creation I can call my son.

Happy Birthday, Kiddo!  I love you more than you can measure!