…which my son has been coined… turned one on August 30th.

Tomorrow would mark exactly one year ago that my c-section was scheduled for Flynn. However, his placenta had a different plan. Blood clot? Maybe. Who knows? We do know that my own body saved my life by rejecting the tributaline they gave me to stop my contractions because he was one day shy of full term. Tributaline: 0. Alyssa: 1.

My contractions continued…every 48 seconds. Flynn didn’t seem to be in any distress but I felt…weird.

His placenta partially abrupted and my uterus ruptured and I was bleeding out. Thank God to Dr. McBride (my OB was out of town) who saved mine and my son’s lives by being quick on her feet and recognizing what was happening when they cut me open.

Flynn, I have no idea what I’d do without you. I brought you home at 6 pounds 6 ounces and you were the tiniest thing and I’d sway in the kitchen with you draped over my shoulder in a white Gerber side-snap T-shirt, a diaper and a knitted hat. in the middle of the night while I fixed a bottle. You were a quiet little boy and now you’re one… you’re sounding out words like “Poop” and “Dah-dee” and “Muh-muh” and “maaaaah” and “Bay-beh” and you’re eating grown up food cut into tiny little pieces. You have six teeth. Two on the bottom, four on the top, with a tiny little gap in your two front teeth. You spend a lot of time playing with your five year old sister who you let throw you around like a rag-doll. You don’t care. You’re just happy somebody is playing with you. You’re getting more interested in toys but you still take a break from playing to suck your thumb. You like anything that rolls or makes noise when you shake it. You love remotes and glasses. You’re a master at disassembling things…You’re going to be just like your Dad, I’m sure of it, when it comes to technical things.

I watched your sister grow from this tiny little demanding baby who giggled at me at only 8 weeks old into a full blown kindergartener with long arms and legs and the lightest brown hair you’ve ever seen – it’s almost blond – and I am saddened to think that you won’t stay this small forever and that will be you someday.

His cake was a gigantic four leaf clover and all the decorations were St. Patrick’s Day clovers which I had to special order this time of year…

People who attended the party looked at me confused… “Clovers… he’s not…st. patricks day..he’s…August..??”

I smiled and nodded and said “Yes, he is August, but he is also “Lucky” to be alive.” — and then the fog cleared and cake and ice cream and good times were had.


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