I’ll post my last entry in the water garden series tomorrow, promise. My little flower turns 3 today. Three. Forgive me for subjecting you to my mini montage of the past three birthdays:
Oliva Age 3
Favorite ice-cream: “pink”
Favorite song: Blurred Lines
Birthday wish: “a card.” follow up question, “what do you want the card to say?” pause. Your reply, “I love you.”
I rummaged around my archives to find the first post I wrote after Oliva was born. At the time Erik and I favored the nickname he knew his grandmother by, “Olive.” That’s the name I used when I wrote this letter. As we’ve gotten to know her better we’ve taken to using her birth name, Oliva, pronounced O-Lee-Va. Our little Olive has grown into an Oliva. We planted a miniature olive tree in the landscape around the pond as a gift to her. Here’s the post I was telling you about:
April 21, 2011
I can’t believe you’re really here! You’re 4 days old and I really should be sleeping since you are, for the moment. But I’m so afraid that I’m going to forget these precious details. I need to start writing them down. So here’s the part of the story where we celebrate your birthday!
On April 17th at 2am my water broke but I was sorta in denial. I thought to myself darn it, I peed myself again! Which you may find is not uncommon when you are carrying around a watermelon on your bladder 9 months into pregnancy. I watched as your father’s eyes grew wide with excitement and anticipation when I finally realized it was time to get going. We checked in at the hospital and everyone looked at me with that suspicious “she’s not in labor” look. Talking about things like false contractions and leaky bladders. But I was over my doubts and knew we would be meeting you soon. I admit I was scared and brought to tears often by the physical changes that brought me closer to you, but it seems so inconsequential now looking at your sweet smile and those irresistibly plump cheeks. You arrived at 5:27 pm the cord was wrapped tightly around your neck but the doctor was able to quickly remove it without any problems. I was so elated to hear your hearty wail, like a battle cry. The moment you were passed to your father you stopped crying, as though you knew immediately this wasn’t a sterile stranger. The look on your dad’s face was one I’d never seen before. Awe, love, and pride all jumbled together as he stared at you, his 6 pound baby girl. Such an out of body experience. So much more I’d like to share…but for now I just really want to say through a blur of joyful loving tears how proud I am to be your mother. You are perfect in every way and I can’t wait to count the ways as we get to know each other better.
Love you little Olive! Happy Birthday!
Learning how to nurse, football style. You fell asleep. You’re so tiny, you look like you’re swimming in jammies and blankies.