The thing I remember most about the day Ethan was born was standing outside the hospital, watching the sun rise over the hills behind the building, knowing that the next time I was outside, we would have our baby and our family would be complete. It was such a peaceful, beautiful March morning. I was so ready, so happy to finally meet this precious boy. I had finally been given the gift of the ideal, dreamed-about, perfect pregnancy. I was ready for the perfect delivery of my healing baby.
Ryley’s birth destroyed so many dreams and wishes. And I was mentally and emotionally not ready to face it again when we found out we were pregnant with Grace. Oh, I’m happy now that she and Ryley are so close, but I am not afraid to admit I was terrified and horrified when that second pink line appeared on that pregnancy test. But Ethan……he was on my terms. I was so happy to be pregnant. I was *that* woman who walked around with her hand constantly on her pregnant tummy. I loved feeling him, loved pushing his little foot or elbow back, loved playing music for him, talking to him. The wounds from Ryley would not disappear, but the pregnancy with Ethan put a balm on those scars.
The day Ethan was born was not perfect. He certainly has his own story. But I was calm…I knew what I was doing. I was ready. I had an awesome doctor who felt his main job, besides getting Ethan into this world, was making sure I was as comfortable as possible. It was a long, long day. The induction started at 9am. Ethan was born at 10:01pm, and he had the cord wrapped around his neck. He had some mild breathing issues. But the moment he was born, he let out that beautiful cry, and my doctor put Ethan on my tummy….I was in heaven. Here was the moment I had dreamed about, but not been given, with the other two…the moment I had imagined for years. I cried at the joy of our new son, but also at the healing of that moment.
Ethan is seven today. Not such a little boy anymore. He was by far my easiest baby. He was always smiling, always happy, rarely cried, very social. He turned three, and all of that changed. He is a challenge, and can drive me to the edge in a heartbeat. We’re getting there with him, but it’s a process. He’s too smart for anyone’s good. He makes dirt angels on the baseball field, and writes in the air with his fingers during soccer games. He runs with his arms out behind him because he truly believes if he runs like Mario (or is it Sonic?), he’ll run faster. Every day at the end of the school day, I hold my breath waiting to see if he’s on yellow, green, or red. But every day, he makes me smile. He is his own person, with his own story. I am so thankful for this little being. Our family would not be complete without him.