Three years ago today, I'd never smelled his fresh newborn forehead. I never knew how small a newborn could be. I never fathomed what five pounds of baby actually looked like. So small. From head to toe you were tiny. Perfect. Perfectly tiny. I never counted his toes or tried with all my might to cut tiny toenails without clipping off some skin. I never traced his spine with my fingers and watched him breathe all night long. Just three years ago.
Three years is a long time, you can almost get a bachelors degree in a subject of your choice, you actually can if you have no life. You can train for mutliple marathons, birth three children, travel the world. Hell you could probably walk from Mexico City to Vancouver, Canada, if you wanted to.
It's pretty simple to see just looking as his narrowed cheeks, his thinned fingers, and listening to his totally audible speech. No baby babbling. Words. He speaks sentences, that is so preschool. His hands no longer possess the roll where his wrist meets his palms. And he most certainly does not have the same cheeks he was born with.
I'm really not sure about three. Maybe it's because two was so fun, so good to us, that three can't possibly top it. I'm just not quite sure.
I'll have a preschooler tomorrow. Just three years ago I had a newborn. That went quick.
I'm really not sure about three. Maybe it's because two was so fun, so good to us, that three can't possibly top it. I'm just not quite sure.I watched a video of Mason's first steps the other day. It looked like someone was holding a gun to his back, he wavered in nearly each small step, but it was such a success, he was walking. Today I watched him run down the street. He ran quickly and with ease. Totally steady, not one wavering step.
It's funny how people try to get prepared for a new baby. Prewash, double rinse, rewash in Dreft. Loads of laundry, swaddling blankets and sleepers washed, baby bedding washed (and even ironed) just awaiting a noodle bodied newborn. Freshly painted nursery walls, diapers in two sizes stacked in the changing table. Car seat installed, uninstalled and reinstalled. Just to be sure, just to be safe.But really it doesn't matter how ready you think you are. You just can't be ready. How do you prepare for your whole life to change in the blink of an eye. Literally. You blink and then you meet your newborn baby.
One minute you are not a mom, the next you are. Suddenly it's like you have this huge responsibility, this wrinkled, pink, generally pissed infant needing you to do everything for them. Everything. Three years ago, you made me a mom. For that I'd like to thank you Mason.
I was anything but ready for Mason. Arriving more than four weeks early, I wasn't even stocked on diapers. I surely wasn't ready for the tar-like poop you get when you first change the Pamper. I'm not quite sure I even knew how to change a diaper of a real infant. I didn't own a sleeper for a baby as small as Mason was. I'd washed plenty of cute rompers, folded and matched tons of socks, but he swam in every piece of clothing I'd bought.
I wasn't ready to feel like I was holding something so fragile I might break it. Three years later I sometimes still feel like I'm holding a fragile newborn, his face has changed, undoubtedly, yet, it's so much the same.I don't really remember the first time I held him. I remember he felt floppy like a noodle, I felt like I was going to break him, that memory is crystal clear. Within two days I felt like he was unbreakable, that was a quick adjustment. 
I was worried when I first met Mason that I wouldn't know how to love him. That I wouldn't know what to do. For anything. How much would he need to eat and when could I tell if he was full? Surely that'd be one of my easiest challenges. Would love come immediately? If it didn't would it never come?I worried something would be wrong. Every minute of delivery, every day in the NICU. Finally he came home and I felt love and relief and the worry was gone. Love came quick. Loving Mason came easy.
The past three years have been blissful, they've been challenging, they've been fun and funny and non stop. The past three years have been hard, really, really hard. The past three years have been the best years I've had yet.
Just three years ago I first heard you cry. You came to me quickly. Right in time to finish up a Grey's Anatomy "To Be Continued...", right in time to stare at you intently for a whole night, right in time. I can't believe it's been three whole years since we first met.
I never thought I'd love anyone the way I love you. But you proved me wrong. Oh. So. Wrong. It only took me 3 minutes to feel overwhelming love for you. Just three quick, short minutes to feel that way, but the three years has made it rock solid. Everyday you do something that makes me love you more. Everyday I learn something new about you. You never cease to amaze me.Tomorrow my baby will be three. Ready or not, he's turning three. No slow motion button, no rewind, nope, not happening. But three, oh that is happening. He will blow out candles tomorrow. He will wake up and be three. (I'm waiting to celebrate until 7:05pm, because I can and hey, every minute counts).
I guess three can't be bad. Not with a preschooler as awesome as you. Three is more than half your whole hand. That's pretty cool and you are pretty damn cool yourself. Let's see what three will bring. I will try my hardest not to blink this year. Because it's already been three years. Thank you for being mine.
Three years old. That was quick. Maybe too quick. But ready or not, it's here. Mason Michael, you are three years old and I barely blinked.
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