Happy Birthday, Dear William...

Dear William,

Today is November 9th. I've seen this date on the calendar. I've been staring at it in disbelief.

To almost everyone in the world, November 9th is a day like any other. One year ago - November 9, 2009 - was just a Monday. It was warm in Austin, TX. The night before, most people slept in their beds; nothing was out of the ordinary. And that morning, most people were waking up and beginning their work week routines. However, inside a house on Montoro Drive, two people - your Mommy and Daddy, had the most extraordinary day of their lives. In the very early morning hours, you decided to tell me that you'd chosen your birthday. It was time to meet your parents, and to meet the world.

From 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., I lay on the couch (the very couch I'm sitting on now as I write this!) timing the contractions I was feeling, and they became stronger and stronger. I finally decided to hike (slowly) back upstairs to nudge your Daddy and tell him that it was time. That second was the end of his normal Monday morning - and, let's be honest - the end of everything we knew as "normal!"

We carried our bags, packed with tiny socks and tiny clothes (was this real?!), pillows, and snacks to the car. The bags had been sitting in our bedroom, waiting for this moment. Your nursery was ready, empty, and waiting. We left your dog, Georgia, alone in the house, waiting.

At the hospital, Mommy stood nervously at the check-in desk. We were seen by a nurse, who confirmed that yes, today would be your birthday. Today was November 9th, and to us it was suddenly the most important date in the history of mankind.

For a few hours, Mommy was just in survival mode, and the time passed in a haze of doctors, nurses, IVs, and glances at the clock. Daddy sat next to me (despite for a short break when he fainted - poor Daddy!) and held my hand.

And then it was 1:02 p.m.

At 1:02, the world stopped. Outside, cars were speeding by on the highway. People were probably out to lunch. Grocery shopping. Sitting at their desks. But at 1:02 p.m. on Monday, November 9th, you came to meet us. In your first seconds, Dr. Cutler's hands caught you. Your Daddy beamed, and your Mommy stared. And we both cried. Just a little. You were weighed. You were bundled in a blanket, and handed to me. I held you. I kissed you, and Daddy kissed us both, and the world stopped.

You were tiny and beautiful.

One year ago today was the first day of your life, and the beginning of the rest of our lives.

We called your Grandparents and somehow got the words out. I remember calling your Nanna, who was at school, and just said, "He's here."

It was no longer a normal Monday, a normal November 9th. It was the happiest day of our lives.

We've spent the last year loving you more and more each day. I've filled your baby calendar with milestones and special moments. I've excitedly peeled off the "first smile," "first tooth," and "crawls" stickers. And now we're back to November. There are no more pages in the calendar. Time for a new one. Another year filled with firsts, and with that joy that makes my heart burst when you laugh.

Happy First Birthday to our baby boy. We love you more than we can possibly tell you, so I hope that we'll show you, and that you'll always know it.

Happy Birthday to you.

Mommy