Baby's Birthday

It's that time of the year again; time to look back and reflect on my youngest child's second year of life.  The day is nearly over.  New toys are scattered on the floor.  My kids are lying in bed, not quiet, but not screaming so that's good enough for me.  I have a moment to think back to when my baby joined our family.  He was a bit of a shock for me, an unexpected surprise.  My oldest son had been diagnosed with autism only a year before, and both he and my other son were on a very restrictive diet for their chronic stomach issues.  They could only eat fresh fruits and vegetables (no potatoes), non-processed meat, eggs, and nuts.  They had been on this diet for almost a year, and we had just moved across country.  My stress was quite elevated during this time.  My health was not doing great.  I finally decided to go into the doctor when my dizziness got bad enough that I fell into the wall and hit my head while walking down our hallway.  The doctor called me with my results.  He said I had three issues that could be causing my symptoms.  Low iron levels, hyperthyroidism, and "Congratulations, you're pregnant!"  That was when I burst into tears.  Then I got mad.  I had struggled to get pregnant with all my other kids.  Apparently the key to getting pregnant is high stress, health problems, and protection.  I would like to say that excitement started to creep in over the next few months, but I can't.  I remained quite emotionally detached from the baby and tried to pretend that my belly was simply bloated.  My autistic son was quite aggressive at the time, and I was honestly worried that this baby would never survive.  During my last month of pregnancy my husband got word that he would be leaving for a deployment two days before my due date.  We would have to take the baby early.  I was not thrilled.  I wanted this baby to stay in as long as possible.  It was much safer for him, but since that would not be the case I moved into action.  I would be left with four kids; a six year old, an autistic four year old, a two year old boy (need I say more), and a newborn.  I needed a plan.  My husband put bolts on all the doors (my autistic son was also a bolter at the time), including the outside of the baby's room.  This was to prevent my son from climbing into the crib with the newborn and attacking.  I bought a Sleepywrap, a cloth that tied the baby to my front.  This was a lifesaver.  My baby would spend his first year tucked safely away against my chest.  The big day quickly came.  I was not excited as I went into the delivery room.  The nurse must have picked up on this because she asked me if something was wrong.  It may have been because I was sitting in the farthest corner from the delivery bed when she walked in.  I had my baby naturally.  I refused to take any medication for the pain.  I hate the feeling of the drugs wearing off.  Maybe I was still pretending that it wasn't happening, being ornery to the end.  But then the doctor laid my beautiful little boy in my arms and I was completely in love.  I kissed his tiny head and said, "Sorry I was such a stinker."  It turned out that he was the easiest, most mellow baby in the world.  Today he is two years old and all mellowness is gone.  But he survived his brother.  What more could a mother ask?