Dear Colin:
This is a tough one to write. It's not even your actual birthday yet and I've already teared up twice today on the eve of your special day.
The first time was after rolling around on the floor with you doing everything I could think of to keep hearing those loud shrieking giggles of yours - which usually means tickling you on the side of your neck or under your arms or tossing you up in the air.
You settled down a little on my lap after getting preoccupied with a talking toy car and I happened to glance at the clock. It was 4 p.m. on November 29, which is when I felt my first contraction exactly one year ago. So I looked down at you playing with your car and even though we were at your Baba and Mimi Meller's house full of people, I felt like you and I were the only two there as I told you the very abridged story of your birth:
"Exactly one year ago today, I felt something that I now know was you telling me it was time for you to come out. I then started timing those contractions with an app on the phone that you just NEED TO HAVE whenever you see it in my hand. By the time Jersey Shore was over at 11:30, you were really telling me it was time for us to leave. So your daddy and I grabbed our stuff and just before we walked out the garage door, your daddy and I kissed and said the next time we'd be in this house, we'd be here with our baby. That's you.
So then we went to the hospital and your mommy was in SO much pain. But your daddy was fantastic helping mommy through it and your Baba and Mimi Meller, Grandma Ray, and Aunt Brittany met us at the hospital because they just couldn't wait to meet you.
So at 10:15, the doctor said you were ready to come out. I pushed and pushed for almost two hours because apparently he was wrong about you wanting to come out! But then, at 12:02 p.m., I saw you for the first time. I don't even remember if you cried. What I do remember, though, was awe that the tiny little baby that the doctor was holding was mine.
Before I could hold you, the doctors had to take you to the warmed table in the corner of the room to make sure you were OK. And even though the doctor said you couldn't see more than a few inches in front of your face and they had you facing the corner of the room, you somehow twisted your head around and stared straight at me the ENTIRE time they were measuring and working on you like you knew I was your mom and you belonged across the room with me. And the only moment I wasn't looking right back at you was when your daddy squeezed my hand and I turned my head so I could kiss him and tell him that you were our baby. That you, Colin Allen Meller, were our sweet little boy.
And then the nurse placed you right on my chest and I got to hold you for the first time. I cradled all 7.2 pounds of you in my arms under a warmed blanket and just looked at your adorable face with your just barely there hair and one tiny, tiny fist poking out. It was the best moment of my life. All because of you."
I have been ready to go to bed for awhile now, but when I saw that it was just 15 minutes to midnight central time, I busied myself with playing games on my phone until I heard the clock chime on the hour. Then I walked quietly upstairs to where you were sleeping, stroked your now quite long blond hair, and was happy that I got to be the first to tell you:
"Happy birthday little man."
Love,
Mom
