Dear Adlai,
A year ago today you came into the world, on time and without much fuss. You were beautiful and healthy and I knew, at that moment, that our family was complete. There are those who are reading this while shaking their heads. Yes, we said Simon was going to be an only child and, at the time we meant it but, with you in my arms and Simon and Daddy looking on adoringly the feeling was different. A moment of perfection. A perfect family. My perfect family.
Your story starts with that decision. Once Simon started sleeping through the night on a semi-regular basis, the daily bouts with spit-up were over and the diaper explosions subsided, we started to think we should consider giving parenthood a second go. Of course we knew we had to wait. Your brother is a lot of work. He needed time to be the baby. Perhaps, more importantly, we were living in a two bedroom condo with paper thin walls and didn't expected you to sleep any better than Simon.
We moved to Chicago under the false impression that we could afford more space, better schools, and that I might have the opportunity to stay home with you and Simon while Daddy worked. But once in Chicago it was clear that, although housing was less expensive, the cost of pretty much everything else made up for it. Daddy’s school didn't need him full time, we all missed having friends and family, and, of course, the nine-month–long winter was a problem. Everything started to seem twice as difficult as before. I didn’t want to have a baby and be stuck inside for months at a time.
We moved back. And then, of course, we had to wait a little longer because it's not really okay to start a "new job" pregnant. We planned for you to be a Winter baby and, as if it were as easy as wishing it to be true, there you were. It was Easter morning. I woke up at 4 am excited to be feeling a bit queasy. A few minutes later, a pregnancy test confirmed my suspicions. Daddy and I snuggled back to sleep with the knowledge that we were about to be a family of four. We told Simon right away - he wasn't going to be interested enough to spill the beans. (His interest grew in proportion to my size.) We had reservations for a nice Japanese restaurant that evening. Daddy called to ask them to substitute any raw fish. You were just an itty bitty thing and we didn't want you to get sick. They congratulated us. It was thrilling to let complete strangers in on our big secret.
And then you made me extremely nauseous and bloated for three long months.
I was five weeks pregnant when we finally signed the papers on the place we would call home. We had your room painted yellow but, after a while - when you became more "real", Daddy repainted the room with two colors and a star boarder to make it more fun.
And that about brings us to your birth. You were born just after 7 pm on a Tuesday (I have all my babies on Tuesdays) a bit smaller than expected weighing in at just over eight pounds. Yes, that is a good sized baby but, you must understand, we expected you to be enormous. I was enormous. And therein lies the story that a few nurses out there will be telling for many years to come. You were pushing your way out (without my help) when you broke my second bag of water. As the nurse leaned in, out the water flew like a scene from the exorcist, four feet across the room, very narrowly missing her face. If I hadn’t been in so much pain I would have been laughing along with them. (I think they held back the laughter until after you were born.) Once the bag broke the nurse asked me to attempt a push. I attempted. She yelled "DOCTOR!!!!!!" A few minutes later, there you were.
Daddy called our families. I text messaged our friends. Grandmother and Grandfather came back with Simon so he could meet you. He held you and hugged you and we told him your name and he was very pleased.
You and I spent the night together in my hospital room but you didn’t sleep much. Once we got you home however, it was a rare occasion to see you awake. We had a new baby. I was home. Daddy was home. Simon was home on a two-week holiday break from school. But it was like nothing had changed. So, for the first two months, we went about our normal routine of running errands and entertaining Simon and you just came along for the ride.
My maternity leave lasted for four months. It was so nice to have that time with you. By the time I went back to work we had a routine down and I left you in the very capable hands of your Dad and assistant caregiver, Simon. Still, it was hard to leave you every morning. Daddy cushioned the blow by bringing you to me at lunch a couple of times a week.
You've been an unexpectedly wonderful addition to our family. You are gentle and sweet and shy and silly. When alone with family you chat up a storm, smile, make silly faces at yourself in the mirror, and play copy cat games with gestures and sounds. While in the presence of "others", you're much more subdued. Some might even mistake your personality as serious. But there are exceptions. Some young women in the Bay Area have been party to your flirtatious side. You know, the one you practice by leaning forward into your car mirror and giving it a big smile along with a exaggeratedly long and breathy "Hiiiiiiiii..." We find these antics amusing but Simon thinks your exaggerated motions and words are hysterical. The two of you have spent many a car ride trying to one-up each other in silliness. Simon usually wins leaving you in deep unstoppable and uncontrollable belly laughs.
You started walking a few weeks ago but, since then, you haven't shown much interest. You're very cautious and it has become clear that you don't want to use walking as your primary mode of mobility until you've perfected every element of the process. You squat and stand and squat and stand and turn and then take a shaky step before deciding that crawling is safer. When there is music, you dance on your knees, scooting across the room like a little Russian folk star. You sing, play the kazoo, and strum the guitar. One favorite activity is pointing to a family member and, once someone else's finger and yours connect, we all say "Beep!" You are an expert at giving tight hugs and love to flip through board books on your own and have them read to you. The other night you crawled over to one of your favorite books, turned the page to the brown bear and sang "Bown beh!" You love being in water and, when at the pool, kick and splash for the entire half hour. And, of course, you and Simon love to bathe together - your primary goal being to flood the bathroom with all that splashing and hugging and sliding around.
You entertain yourself zooming cars and trucks and investigating how toys work for long periods of time however, participating in whatever Simon is doing is usually your immediate goal. You eat what he eats, you play with what he plays with, you crawl after him when he leaves the room and you close the doors behind you where ever you end up. Luckily, Simon thinks you are the best gift ever and, in a way you are. All Simon has ever wanted is for someone to play with him every minute of the day and you are happy to give him the attention and adoration he craves.
You aren't a great sleeper but I forgive you because you *want* to go to sleep and you try. One of us will put you down in the crib and you almost always roll on to your stomach and stick your bum high into the air or, on wacky days, you roll on to your stomach and flatten yourself out completely giving the artificial impression that you are a cartoon character recently hit by a steam roller. We started you on pacifiers around four weeks old and, most unfortunately, you have become obsessed. You still wake up one, two, or three times a night crying because you've lost a pacifier. We try to keep them away from you during the day but you will try to secure one at any cost. Rummaging through the drawer where we keep the kid cups, and plates, and bottles, and pacifiers is one of your very favorite things to do. You spread dishes, pots, and pans evenly throughout the house. We spend a lot of time running the dishwasher.
You're a good eater of solids but are quick to tell us about your distaste for food without much flavor. Our gourmet in training, you like your steak expensive and your asparagus baked in herbs and olive oil. Milk is alright but you rarely want more than four ounces at a time. You gave up "baby food" a couple of months after it was introduced even though you still only have two teeth.
You have one friend, two days younger, who you see on a regular basis. You and Ben don't really "play" yet but you tackle him from time to time with aggressive hugs. I can't wait to see you and the gregarious Ben start to play over this next year.
Adlai, at twelve months old, your very favorite thing to say is "Ank you." You're thanking us. And I wonder how many times you have heard us thank you. Not enough. Never enough. It isn't possible to thank you enough for being in our lives and making us complete.
We love you Adlai B.
Happy first birthday!
Love,
Mama, Daddy, and Simon