Today was the birthday of my youngest son, Aydan. Nine years ago on this day, I was holding a beautiful little baby---my miracle boy.
I had gone through surgery several years before to remove a cantaloupe sized fibroid tumor in my uterus, and they told me that the chances were slim that I could ever get pregnant again. The year after that I had a miscarriage. It was devastating and I tried to forget about ever having another child.
And then along came Aydan.
I still remember like it was yesterday holding this, my last baby. I was talking to my oldest daughter about a month ago about how special that last baby is. You relish every minute that you spend with them as a baby, rocking them and spoiling them, as you know that you will never do this again.
I love the smell of babies. I love every single smell that they have---even the dirty diapers have a poignant smell that makes you smile when they are babies.
But the smell I loved the most with this little guy was the smell of his sweat. We lived in a duplex on a horse farm when Aydan was born, and the upstairs would get pretty hot when the summer came on---he was about 5 months old then, had long, black curly hair and little pudgy hands. I used to pick him up out of his crib and bury my nose deep into his neck under the curls.
There it was... That amazing tangy baby smell, so tart, yet so yummy. I could smell it all day.
He still has that smell, by the way. I like to bury my nose into his neck and blow bubbles, so I have an excuse to smell that sweet, yet pungent smell of sweat.
It is hard to see your last child grow up. It is difficult to see ANY of your children grow up, but the last one is the hardest. You start feeling guilty for all the times you are cursing the fact that all your friends are empty nesters now and you have a young one that is just starting elementary school. You wish that you had taken more time to spend with him, one on one, just holding him and looking at him---every angle, trying to memorize every aspect of him before he changes into a boy.
Don't get me wrong. This little boy has been a joy even as he was growing up. He has been the perfect last child.
He is easy going, happy, funny, smart, inquisitive, cute, excited about life and a joy for all those who know him. He goes everywhere with me with hardly a complaint, and puts up with so many excuses from me about how I will get him signed up for that engineer class as soon as I have time and then forgives me when I totally miss the deadline.
I adore all my children. Each one of them are on my mind at least one time every day. I have spent hours in prayer for each of them. I never stop hoping, worrying, and loving them.
And this is how I will always feel about my special little guy, Aydan. I know that this will be my last year for so many things with him.
I know that when he turns 10, he won't want to snuggle with me anymore.
I know that he won't let me hug him in front of his friends anymore.
I know that he will start to talk back to me more, not thinking about how it might hurt me.
I know that he won't tell me everything that he is thinking anymore, as he is too "grown up" to divulge things to Mom anymore.
I know that he won't look at me "that way" anymore---that way that makes you feel like you are the most amazing person in the world.
So, I realize that I have to take advantage of this last year before he moves into a new phase. I need to appreciate every hour, every minute, every day---to hug him, to laugh with him, to listen to him, to do things with him-----and yes, to even smell that special smell that is his alone.
Happy to be outside!
He doesn't mind dressing up---wonder where he gets that from?
Picture time with the family----can I have a time out?
With his two best friends, Mignon and Musette.
Hanging with me.
As Pinocchio in the summer musical theatre camp
Happy Birthday, my sweet little love.