𝗔π—₯𝗧𝗛𝗨π—₯ π—œπ—¦ ➏ π— π—’𝗑𝗧𝗛𝗦!

β«Έ 𝕋𝕠𝕑 π•‹π•–π•Ÿ π•‹π•šπ••π•“π•šπ•₯𝕀 β«·
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”
βž™ 16 pounds 1 ounce
βž™ 26.25 inches long
βž™ rosey cheeks; poor teething babe
βž™ sits-up unassisted for a few minutes
βž™ β€œMr. Handsome Hot Temper”
βž™ wakes up 1-2 times a night for a snackΒ 
βž™ devours all of Mama’s homemade purΓ©es
βž™ favs: snowy walks & blowing raspberriesΒ  Β 
βž™ refuses the bottle and demands Mama
βž™ loves to horse around with MK & be tickled

β«Έ π•„π•’π•žπ•’β€™π•€ 𝕄𝕠𝕀π•₯ 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕀 π•„π• π•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯ β«·
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”
Mama must be insane to say I actually haven’t hated your 3AM wake-up calls, and maybe I’m even crazier to deem them as some of our most β€˜marvelous moments’ this month?

Throughout the past few weeks, like clockwork, between 2-3AM, I start to hear your little feet rustle inside your sleep sack. It’s true, a mother may close her eyes at night, but her ears stay wide open. I know exactly what you’re doing without even having to glance over at the glowing monitor screen. The gentle rustle begins to turn into a heavy kick against the mattress springs, and then I know I have just a few seconds before the whimpering sets-in. My eyes remain closed as I wait that extra minute to see if you’re willing to settle back to sleep, but like a switch, your meek fussing transforms to a boisterous shout; you crack me up Arthur, the way in which you command attention is similar to a drill sergeant ordering around new recruits.Β  And right on schedule, my eyes pop open in confirmation that β€œmama is needed”.Β 

I tiredly stagger towards your bedroom, but with brand new perspective. This. is. luxury! This wake-up call is not from a doctor in the middle of the night telling us you’re in cardiac arrest. This wake-up call is not the loud beeping of machines signaling your desatting, not getting enough oxygen. This wake-up call is not a surgeon tapping us on the shoulder in a waiting room saying we can go see you, but that you’re heavily sedated and unable to move.  No Arthur, your wake-up calls are just that- my β€œwake-up” and reminder of the beautiful reality that comes with a healthy child; strong lungs that wake up the entire house, and good blood circulation that turns your skin pink while crying, instead of blue. The simplicity of needing β€˜just me’ to change your diaper, rub your back, and nurse you back to sleep is the polar opposite of your brother not needing β€˜just me’, but sometimes a whole team of medical professionals to pump him with medications in order to save his life.

I miss Theodore with every fiber of my being, but these past couple years I’ve realized that when you want what you can’t have, you start to need those things that others don’t want… like 3AM wake-ups… It’s now thirty minutes later, I’m staring down at your sweet milk drunk face, Arthur, and I wonder β€œwho really needs who?”.Β  I love you.

❀️

-Alexandria


… join me by #FallingRightSideUp ☝🏽

when life gets turned upside downπŸ‘‡πŸ½

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