My Beautiful Son

I think a lot about Andrew right now. I suppose that seems odd since I thought of him often before now. I guess it's changed a bit. I think of specific memories now. Especially him as a newborn. Holding him. Snuggling with him. Kangarooing.

Kangarooing is when you undress your baby down to his diaper and holding him against your bare skin. I learned about it in NICU. The nurses told me it was a bonding technique for mothers and their babies. Very good for them and mommy. It was on the marker board in his room as a note for all the nurses to know that I would breastfeed at 4 pm every day and kangaroo with my little guy. He had lots of nurses. Just like he had lots of doctors. So the marker board was a way to communicate between all of us.

Andrew was so tiny. This little tiny precious bundle. Only 5 pounds at birth. Only 18 inches long. Oh gosh was he so cute. So tiny. His little fingers and hands were so small in mine. He would wrap his little bitty fingers around mine. His skin was so soft. He was so innocent. So precious. And he was so light. I couldn't believe that he was so tiny.

He was so small and precious. I chuckle as I think of this. Even having had 3 others before him, I was afraid I would hurt him. I was no nervous to change his diaper. I was a bit afraid to give him his first bath. It was so odd. I'd done these things so many times before. It even took Mark awhile to do these things because he was daunted by his tiny size too.

We loved him so much. We still love him so much.

He was so small he actually wore the newborn and 0-3 month clothes the others had only worn for a week or two. When we brought him home he drowned in 0-3 month clothes. It was odd but so adorable. We had to buy him small clothes. He even wore size 1 diapers for two months. So tiny.

Within the first 24 hours he peeked his little eyes open a slit to look at me. Mark told me after a week Andrew had not opened his eyes for him or the nurses. I smiled inside feeling a sense of pride and specialness. I tried to hide it since Mark seemed kind of hurt that the little guy peeked at me and not him.

This was my special bond with him. He did many things for me that he didn't show others for awhile or as quickly. And I relished how we communicated with each other just by a look of the eyes. A touch of our hands. It was like I knew what he was thinking. And often what he said to me was that he loved me very much. He loved his daddy and his brothers.

He told me that he was glad I was his mommy.

And my heart was full. I loved him so much. And I was so proud to be his mommy.

I was so proud that he was my son. My beautiful son.