Sam I Am, One Year

One Year.

One year ago your Daddy and I checked into the hospital and awaited your arrival. I'd done this before, but this time, waiting for you, I was much more emotional. I was too excited to sleep, too attuned to your heartbeat, too worried that something would go wrong. I was a jumble of emotions and I didn't feel like I was doing things right. I couldn't rest as I wondered if you'd be a daughter or a son (as I suspected) and I savored every last movement of what was likely my last pregnancy.

When you decided to come, you were ready and I had to hold you back until the doctor arrived. That wait was hard, but once we started the process, what I remember most was how peaceful it was. It was just Daddy, me, my doctor and a nurse in a dim room. There was a serenity and intimacy to it, so much so that I nodded off between a couple pushes. Maybe that's where your sweet, calm demeanor comes from. Or maybe you get that from your Daddy -- his patience, his focus, his easy-going nature.

After someone told me you had dark hair, I was anxious to see you. They brought a mirror and I was awed and utterly moved by the sight of your entrance into this world. It is my favorite memory of the day and one that I will never forget.

I worried when you were born that I couldn't love you as much as I loved your brother, but I was naive and unaware that your brother had already expanded our hearts for parenthood and carved a snug spot for you in there as well. And when you were sick in the hospital, that overwhelming love and fear for harm that we'd learn to live with (without acknowledging) leapt to the forefront and you became our everything. Sweet Sam.

You were a big ball of squishy newborn, so content, so cuddly, with dark hair and big eyes. Over the weeks and months that followed you unfolded, stretched out, grew longer, sat up, but still remained so content, so cuddly. You crawl (sometimes backwards), you walk, you reach up for us. You find your favorite balls and push them down the giraffe slide or toss them through the baby gates for us to fetch over and over again. You have a staccato laugh and when you grin your whole face lights up and your gray eyes twinkle. On the occasion when you fuss you sing a high pitched little whine (and it's usually accompanied by the "milk" sign). I have to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider just to keep you still long enough to change your diaper, and you look at me with fascination and calmness. You have the most easy-going personality, and with your brother's energy and activity, we greatly appreciate this, knowing full well in a year or two you'll be running along right beside him.

I cannot even tell you how giddy I am over you! While I'm a little nostalgic for your tiny infancy, I am more overwhelmed by your happy personality. Each day we learn more about the little traits that make you unique, and I love love love watching you grow and learn and discover them yourself. The more you grow the more interactive you are with us and your brother. You adore him and you love to chase him and laugh at him and get into whatever he is playing with. I pray that you grow to be best friends.

Our Sweet Sam, our pumpkin pie, our sunshine. You have changed our lives forever, and we can't possibly remember our family without you. Thank you for the year of joy and happiness and absolute delight. I pray that you always know how loved and adored you are, that near or far, we always hold your heart in ours. We imagine the man you will become and the impact you'll have in this world and know God has huge plans for you.
We are outrageously blessed.


Happy First Birthday, Sweet Sam.