Can you believe it's been two years since the day that changed our lives forever? Our dearest Andi is having a good birthday so far.
This has been our day as of yet: She woke up at seven. I put her in the stroller and we went running with Harry....and with you...I always like to think you're running beside me...and I'm not so sure that's too far off. BTW: Harry did pretty well on the run, but as you know, his knees are still hurting him. Surgery soon, I hope. Can't get our last conversation out of my head when we talked about Harry needing surgery and that inasmuch as you hated to spend more money on him, you love him so much and wouldn't have it any other way. I love him too. He is us. He misses you so much. He's a different man these days. I've been trying so hard to give him extra love and attention, but true to form, he's usually the one giving me the comfort.
Anyway, as I ran through downtown Farmington, through those beautiful Sycamores that you know I love, I thought of this day two years ago. What a beautiful and fun memory. Every pain to get Andalyn to us was worth it, and you were right with me that whole 12-hour period of hurt. I remember I awoke at 11 p.m. with pains. I woke you up at one, and we watched the Beijing Summer Olympics for three painful hours while you sat on the couch and I was standing up, looking at the clock and pacing back and forth in pain. At four, Harry watched from the window as you peeled out of the driveway toward the hospital. (You thought it was funny to peel out and drive like a maniac, as if we were in some huge hurry, like a scene out of the movies.)
We arrived and I was dilated to a four. I held out for an epidural but then regretted it during that fanastically painful hour after my water broke and the anesthesiologist was out of sight. You were with me, though, looking me in the eye and loving me every minute through. Your mom came at ten; at ten-thirty as you were walking her to her car, the nurse came and told me I was at a ten and ready to go. You returned to me and I was in a panic. I was so nervous and kept telling you I couldn't do it, but you protested and offered strength. Before we knew it, at 11:01, Andalyn arrived. As we later recalled that experience, just as many first-time parents do, we both recounted feeling completely changed from that moment of her birth. It was literally as if the heavens opened and God himself handed this child to us. The first fifteen minutes after her birth we practically sat in silence. We were speechless and in awe.
God was real. She was evidence.
She has grown so much these two years. You have laid a great foundation of love for her and I know you will continually do so.
So as I was saying, her birthday so far has been good. After our run, we came back and made breakfast for Lydia, Spencer, and Chase since Lori needed us to watch 'em for a bit. After we took Lydi and Spence to tennis lessons, Chase, Andi, and I went to Castle Park and played. Since then we've been home making salads and cakes and watching Sesame Street. Your sweet Aunt Ruthie called and sang happy birthday to her in the way that only Aunt Ruthie can do. Andi laughed. The girl is now asleep, and I am now hoping I can use this time to reflect on not only the sweet experience of her birth, but how that experience is just one of the many examples of how you were at my side always, both literally and figuratively. You are my long-suffering companion. I feel that even now. I thank you for that.
I thank you for when you didn't get mad at me after I ruined every single one of your favorite shirts when I accidentally spilled bleach on them.
I thank you for holding your tongue after I knocked over our brand new, 40 inch HD TV when I was dusting. The screen cracked and it was no longer workable. But again, you held your tongue.
I thank you for watching all those fun girlie movies with me and loving it just because we were together. You were so so sweet about that. You gave me our favorite chick flick, P.S. I Love You, for Mother's Day last year. Now, how I hold that story dear! You know I don't go crazy for movies, but watching that movie after losing you has meant so much and reminded me of our collective reaction to it and all the priceless conversations it sparked amongst us. It's another reminder of you.
I thank you for being understanding of when I went through my pink fleece jacket phase. I wore it every day for almost two years straight. Even in the summer. The only time you wouldn't have it was when I added it on top of two other jackets I was wearing. You told me that this time, I was just going to have to be cold, because you weren't going out with me wearing that. Ha. So unlike you, but totally funny.
I thank you for being at my side during my meltdowns. During my moments of self doubt. During my moments of grief. During my moment of completely flipping out at you the night you didn't get home 'til two o'clock in the morning. I'd been phoning you for hours, but no answer. I truly went ballistic. I didn't know where you were, and for all I knew, you could have been in an accident, or you could have been at some druggy's house who was holding you for ransom. (Who knew with all those shady homes with broken furnaces you went to.) My imagination went wild. I called all your friends. I started crying hysterically and praying to God that you weren't being taken from me. When I finally got a hold of you, I yelled, swore, and screamed out my tears to you. You told me you were fine, you were sorry, and you said thank you for loving you that much. That night I begged you to never leave me, for I swore I couldn't handle it.
But here I am and there you are.
And so still, here I sit, loving you and thanking you for all you have done.
I thank you for taking me to the ER in Arizona when I broke out in terrible hives and looked like Will Smith did in Hitch after his character had an allergic reaction. You took care of me even when I knew you were trying not to laugh.
Thank you for letting me be prissy and high maintenance. For letting me complain about my bad hair days and how my hair lady didn't get my hair quite right.
Thank you for constantly telling me I was beautiful, even when I presented you with nothing more than a regular self full of imperfections and uncertainties.
Thank you for not complaining about that last dinner I made you that was charred to the core. You ate it anyway. That is my Michael.
The Michael I love is understanding, empathetic, concientious, powerful, honorable, ambitious, and most of all, long-suffering. Thank you, my Darling.
Happy birthday to our girl!! Yours forever!
~Your girls
No comments:
Post a Comment