In Which Eli is Two

Dear Eli,

A few days ago on Saturday, at 8:27 AM, you turned Two. Eleven hours before, you spent the first night in your new "big boy" room, in a bed your Papa had as a little boy. It wasn't your first time to sleep out of your crib, but I worried just the same about you tumbling out. Needlessly, of course. You don't ever move from one spot once you fall asleep.

The Nutshell Version of the Story of Your Birth:
Two years ago we were celebrating the 4th of July at Nana & Papa's house and I thought the tightening cramps I was having were just more of the same maddening false labor. Truthfully, I didn't think much of it. I had more I needed to do before your debut, and I wasn't quite ready to say good-bye to our convenient little family of three just yet. But the contractions never let up, even into the night, and I knew I needed to wake your Dad when they started getting fast and furious around 3:00 AM.

But I had no idea just HOW fast they would get. I was warned the second time is quicker, and they weren't kidding. Grandmother was called and made it to our house to watch Finn in about 45 minutes, but by then I was having contractions two minutes apart and lasting just as long. And they hurt MUCH worse this time. The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever but we made it just in time. No messing around for me when we arrived to Admitting - I was in a room and a gown five minutes later.

Then my water broke. And it wasn't quite... right.

Dr. T was on his way, and the nice guy with the fabulous drugs came in and did his thing while we waited for him. This all took about 20 minutes.

Upon inspection, it turned out that you, my Dear Second-Born Son, were perfectly happy being upright, and had no intention of flipping upside down to do things the easy way. You couldn't be bothered... it was warm and you were comfortable - why leave? So they had to take your freaked-out Mamma into surgery for the first time in her life to get your breech-ass out.

Thankfully, it happened so fast, I couldn't get too scared. The next thing I knew, I was so numb I couldn't feel myself breathing and thought I was suffocating. And then there you were. With your dark curly hair and your fat baby cheeks (where DID you get those huge chubby cheeks?) and your blue eyes that proved how strong your Grandaddy's genes are. And you were so perfect and unblemished - not a single mark on your body for making your way into this world.


Nanna gets a whiff of the brand-new baby cheeks.

You were ravenous, and have been a good eater since Day One. You still are. Just tonight you dove into plate of rotini with tomato sauce and inhaled it in about six minutes, carefully selecting the broccoli spears for deposit underneath the dinner table. I had to turn my head to keep you from seeing me laugh.


Daddy's first look.

Happy Birthday, My Little Man. At the moment your favorite word is "NYO!" and you are fond of pulling your brother's hair when he aggravates you. But you are just as likely to stomp up to me and ask to be held, squeezing my neck and patting my shoulder with your fat little hand. I am preparing myself for the tough months ahead, but look forward to the spaces between the power struggle, when your wonder and sweetness are fierce and frequent.


Dudes, this was exactly five weeks from birth. You can't tell me that's gas...