This year, we were excited. All of us. Papa-Daddy was going on a business trip for the week and coming home the night before Sebastian was going to turn three. The anticipation for the big day was double. Triple even.
This year I did not mourn over the perfect birth story that did not happen. About a month before Sebastian’s birthday, I thought about three and I had a few moments of grief for the three that he would not be, but then rejoiced at the three that he is.
On the night of his birthday, after we worked hard to prepare for his party at home the next day, I took a look through the photos from his party at school. And it was fabulous. And the next day would be fabulous. And the next. And every day after that. Because he is three. His own three. And his three is awesome.
I took out the sim card from the camera bag from the week he was born. It just resides there, full. In its special zip pocket. I just keep it there. I took it out and looked at some of the photos of him. Sleeping inside his little incubator. Waiting for us to take him out and hold him. It’s amazing to see those photos and remember that time. The time he was born not breathing. And the first time I held him two days later. It was a wonderful feeling to look at these photos and no longer feel a sense of loss for the perfect birth story. But to look at these photos of another time and see how far we have come.
I’m ok now. I’m not sad. I don’t need to spend days remembering how it was and how it could have been when he was born. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that I’m ready. Ready for more.
Many more photos to follow.