Fortunate

The first time I ever said your name outloud to anyone other than your dad, was to the anesthesiologist as he was spreading sticky iodine onto my spine in preparation for my epidural. I curled myself over you in my belly and he distracted me by telling me stories about his wife and her childbirth and I distracted myself with pressing the balls of my feet into your dad's feet as hard as I could. He asked me what you were and I told him you were still a surprise. He asked me your name and I said, "If we have a boy, his name will be Maddox Oliver."

I hesitated for a moment because there it was, out in the open. I didn't even tell my closest friends who had actually begged and pleaded with me over their drinks and my iced tea and our appetizers at our favorite restaurant. We didn't tell our parents or our brothers. We didn't tell a single person what your name would be.

You were mine first, this tiny little soul that inhabited the spot just below my heart. I wanted to keep you there forever where I could keep you safe and protect you from everything that life would throw your way. Instead you were born, a perfect seven pounds, three ounces and I held your tightly bundled body against mine and forgot the rest of the world for a few perfect moments.

That seems like a lifetime ago. It seems like a dream that those soft newborn onesies were once too big for you. I remember the first day that your dad went back to work and I spent the day sending him pictures of you, of your feet, of your sleeping smiles. Now I send him texts about how you're suddenly walking down the stairs by yourself and running into things and when you've fallen asleep on me. We reminisce on your newborn days and wonder where all of that time went and whisper prayers of thanksgiving for all of it.

Your name means "fortunate," but I think we're the fortunate ones. We're so blessed by you. By your laugh and smile and mischievous grins. We've never heard so many compliments given as are given to you. You deserve every single one of them because you are sweet and kind and friendly and you really do have the purest and kindest and prettiest eyes. You've changed our lives in a million ways and every single day we discover something new about you and we look at each other and know that our life is perfect. Your toys may cover the floor and you may empty all kitchen cabinets and drawers of their contents five times daily and you might pee on the bath mat every night before your bath and you might go through an absurd amount of diapers some days but we love every single thing about you. We are richly blessed and we are fortunate.

I love you. I love you. I love you.