"But we just checked you 15 minutes ago and you were only 3 cm." The labour nurse insisted. But there was no stopping Mitch. He wanted out and that was all there was to it. Within a few minutes of the nurses having conniptions over this rebellious baby that was not supposed to be crowning on the labour room stretcher, no doctor in sight, no equipment ready, and a room filled with spectators (one of which at this point was white as a ghost...anxious over his own wife's delivery any day), I was handed the most beautiful bundle I had ever laid eyes on. I was definitely captivated by his innocence, dependance, fragility...and trust...in me.
He had this black thick hair...believe it or not, with blonde streaks over his ears, and we all chuckled at the black downy hair that lined his shoulders and back. Big blue eyes that you just could get lost in, tiny little fingers and toes, hands and feet...the same feet that just days earlier great grandma and I measured through my abdomen when he kicked out so hard we could see the outline of his foot. All I could do was hold this amazing little creature in my arms and want the rest of the world to disappear. I had to fight off the urge to snatch him back rudely from anyone -especially those pesky nurses- who kept trying to take him from me for one reason or another. I never knew it was possible to love someone so much. I didn't know it at the time, but he was to be the turning point in my life. He became my life and he was, aside from Christ, the greatest and most gracious gift God has ever given me. I loved him with my entire life and being.
It wasn't long before his personality began to shine through either. The poor little man was so eager to get up and move around. He strained so hard to lift his head on his own, and ate with such vigor that he literally ripped me (agonizing!). At eight months old (remember that's only one month older than Leila) he was there at my bedside to greet me as I opened my eyes each morning and Will and I couldn't for the life of us figure out how he was getting out of his crib. So we peeked in his room when he wasn't watching and we discovered for the first time just how strong, enduring, resourceful and bright this boy is as we watched him maneuver his way out of his crib by removing his socks, and using the grip from his bare feet to scale the side of the crib, he then dropped into a laundry hamper on the floor and proceeded to crawl to my room.
...And even now as a teenager (did I sign up for this??) it has been energy and ambition ever since. Whatever Mitch sets his mind to, he succeeds with flying colours. He certainly is a star.
Celebrating his birthday this year has served as a very refreshing reflection of what a gift he really is. There is so much in this kid that, if we stop to consider, can teach us so much. His spirit, his energy, his spark, his goofiness, his laughter, his determination, his strength, his smarts, his tenderness when nobody's looking, his attention to the little things we miss all the time, his love and concern for his baby sister, his creativity, the way he loves being around people, the way he aims high, and so much more. Even in his worst moments God has used him as a blessing to those who take the time to know his person. He has the ability to bring the best out of you at times, and then at other times he can bring the worst out of you in a way that only he can...but that way you know what's really in your heart. There's no disguising yourself when you're around him for too long, and how can we be anything but thankful to God for revealing the nasty stuff in our hearts?
I can only pray that I can be as much of a blessing to Mitchel as he has been to me. Powerful things are usually hard to handle...but they also make the biggest impact.
Happy Birthday, my baby. I love you!
