Little Number Three is One

Kyle. Chubbers. One year ago I met you for the first time. I had spent the previous 40 weeks plus 6 days agonizing over your arrival. I was trying my best to remember every last kick and nuzzle from you before I had to share you with everyone else.

I diligently folded and re-folded your newborn clothes and reviewed the home birth list once a day, double and triple and quadruple checking to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Your brothers talked to you whenever I was sitting quietly. They'd chatter about things they wanted to do with you, talk about the cats and your grandparents, and ask you if you were ready to come out yet.

When that day came, and we all met you for the first time, it was as if you'd always been here. I felt an overwhelming surge of love. You sure were in a hurry once we had all decided labor was stalled. Pooja had broken my water at home hours earlier and I was feeling like labor would never get going. Tub, shower, sitting backwards on the toilet, squatting, walking, stairs, bouncing on the trampoline (really!); nothing seemed to be working. I made the decision around 5pm that we were heading to the hospital. I was tired of waiting and was desperate to meet you.

Melissa drove me and you through the busy rush-hour streets while Craig followed behind in the van and Gramma and Grampa stayed with your brothers. She casually chatted about her first apartment and the park where she found a stray kitten while I desperately wished I had stayed at home for only a few minutes longer; the contractions were coming fast and furiously. I was in agony and wasn't sure we were going to make it.

Finally at the hospital, I paused and braced myself on the guardrail outside the main entrance for another strong contraction. With each contraction I could feel you creeping deeper into my pelvis. I knew you'd be here soon. I held it together in the elevator and groaned as another began when the doors opened. Pooja was already in a room, ready and waiting for me to walk in. It was only minutes after I arrived that I couldn't remain standing for my contractions anymore. Pooja kept wanting to get my blood pressure but I kept getting contractions: one after another. I lay on my left side focusing on relaxing during the intense pulling and tightening, and then would take a moment in between to have Melissa post on Facebook that you were coming or to send someone to find Craig (who hadn't arrived yet!).

My body was starting to take over. I needed to relax. I knew the only way you'd come quicker was if I breathed deeply and slowly and relaxed every part of my body. Eyes, mouth, jaw... Craig flew into the room in a flurry of excitement and apologies of how full the parking garage was and all of a sudden, there you were. Your head was born into my mesh underwear. I was still telling myself to relax as my body was introducing you to your new world. Pooja scrambled and frantically ripped the underwear off me as I yelled that you were coming. Moments later I was able to reach under your arms and pull you onto my chest and whisper in your ear, "Nice to meet you, Kyle." I'll never, ever forget that first moment. You barely cried while I sobbed. A perfect, incredible boy. Little number three.

Those first few days are still quite a blur. We went home hours after your birth and introduced you to anxious grandparents and your big brothers. You slept that first night nuzzled next to me and my breast. You figured out how to nurse right away and ate great. My milk came in quickly and you continued to present wet and dirty diapers. Your eating and dirtying wasn't enough, though, and at 5 days old you were admitted to the hospital for jaundice. I stayed with you in the same room and sang you songs and touched your bare skin when you'd start to cry in the incubator. We bonded and I fell in love hard. I ached to be home with your brothers; it was so hard to know the hospital was the best place for you and to feel, in the same moment, that I wanted to be anywhere but there. While we were in the hospital, time stopped. I couldn't see the ground from our room so I had no idea if there was still snow or if flowers were blooming. I lost track of time and what day it was because of the constant blue glow from your incubator. I was allowed to take you out only to feed you and change your diaper. I did what I could to snuggle and would remove my shirt and nurse you in only your diaper, skin to skin. I'd caress your skin and talk softly. I like to think that my voice calmed you because when your sunglasses would go back on I only needed to coo, "you're okay, Momma's right here," and you'd settle right in for another long nap.

Once we got back home, life was back to normal and a newborn had been thrown into the mix. Shaun still had school, Craig still had work, Ian was still, well, Ian, and I started to feel less and less like myself. I was going through the motions and doing what I thought I should be doing but felt like I just wanted to find a hole and disappear into it. The spiral began. I sought out a counsellor who had experience with post partum depression, started to open up some of how I was feeling to Craig and on here, and slowly found my way back to being okay. Things are much better now but some days I still feel that darkness lurking on the other side of a bad day. Having three children who need me has helped me to push all that away.

And you, Kyle, you have made having three boys so much better than I could have ever imagined. You are patient, sooo patient. Waiting for everything and never complaining. It helps that your brothers try their best to entertain you while you're waiting for me, but even if they're not around you find ways to entertain yourself. You love to play with balls and will throw and chase the green Waste Management one until it gets stuck under something and then come and find me and hollar, "bah, bah," until I figure out where it's hiding. You still have a suckie. A green one and a blue one made by Born Free. And they have to be the ones without handles. I've spent hoards of money on all kinds of other suckies but these are the only two you will accept. If we ever lose them, we're done for. You have a favourite blankie, who as of yet does not have an official name. It's the white one from Shaun's school friend, Vanessa, that has a fuzzy, soft side and an animal print on the other side. You like to rub the soft side in your fingers as you're falling asleep.

Sleep, yes, you're a sleeper. At one year old you still have three naps a day. An hour and a half in the morning beginning around 9, two hours in the afternoon beginning around 12:30, and then another half hour at dinner time. Sometimes I even have to wake you up from your third nap because you'd sleep the night away and completely skip dinner. You've never had an issue going to sleep and are willing to sleep pretty much anywhere... except the car. For whatever reason, you fight sleep in the car until your eyes are red and rolling and your head is bobbing. Then when sleep finally wins the battle, you'll only stay sleeping for half and hour before you're awake and ready to rock n roll.

We've decided your nickname is Chubbers, although Ian calls you Kyle-Boo. He figured out that nickname all on his own and calls you that more than anything. You really are chubby. Moreso than either of the other boys. At one year old you're over 24 pounds and starting to grow out of some of your 18 month clothes.

For the past 2 months you've been crawling. It's like you would practice in your sleep because one evening you just... crawled. No little strides here or there, you just went. Within half an hour you were going from bedroom to bedroom and now you're so fast you can chase Shaun and Ian around the house.

You talk, too. I'd guess you probably have 10 words but it seems like there's new sounds coming out of your mouth every day so it could be more and I just don't realize it. Your favourite things to say are definitely Bye-Bye and BooBoo. Bye-Bye is accompanied by an adorable wave, complete from wrist to fingertips. BooBoo is our dumb fat cat who seems to love you just as much as you love her. Probably because you feed her. Oh yes, I see you feed her even though I'm sure you'd swear up and down that you do nothing of the sort. She lurks under your highchair and you'll casually drop things off your tray and then glance in my direction to see if I noticed. Sometimes if you don't drop things quickly enough, BooBoo will climb onto my chair at the table and nonchalantly put her nose on the edge of your tray as a reminder. Daddy and I scratch our heads over how she never loses any weight even though we continue to feed her less and less; I know why but can't bring myself to make you stop. It's too damn cute!

Kyle, you have brought something to our family that we didn't even realize was missing until you were here. You're completely perfect, completely adorable and completely ours. We love you!