Dear Ian Gage,
This is a letter to you. I hope one day you will read it and understand why I love you so much. On the day I found out you were going to be in my life, I ran down the hall, not bothering to pull my pants up. I showed it to daddy and the journey began. You definitely gave us quite a scare. At 8 weeks pregnant, we were so excited to hear your heartbeat and it wasn't there. We left that day, with tears thinking our struggle for 9 months to have you could be over. They told us to wait two more weeks and come back. By that time daddy was having his surgery and I had to go face what I thought was the end, instead I heard it. Your heart beat. Strong and fast. With no one to comfort me, it was only later that I realized that in that moment by myself that me and your heartbeat we were a team.
Ian you made me fat! I was swollen, I ate enough pancakes that my pours seeped out syrup. I craved breakfast; eggs, bacon, cereal and biscuits at 3 am, three meals a day. Sonic knew me by name and I thought you would be shaped like a peanut because I ate so much peanut butter.
That year it was the Summer Olympics. Before we knew you were a boy, we had a list on our refrigerator of names. Sloan and Ava for a girl, Tate and Gabe for a boy. Daddy didn't like any of them. We found out you were a boy. I knew it in my heart, but every sign told us you were a girl. The heart beat, the Chinese needle trick, the way I carried you. Wrong, but I was thrilled either way. We came home and talked about names and watched the Olympics every day. I knew I wanted to name you something with a story behind it. Someone strong, someone that when you needed confidence, you could look to a hero and how you became who your were. There was a gold medal swimmer named Ian Thorpe from Australia. He was on fire. I don't remember how many medals he won, but I knew then your first name would be Ian. I have told you that story before but I can't wait until you become of an age, that I can tell you why. Ian Thorpe was a hero to his country and the world. He was strong, confident and courageous. He worked hard to get to where he was. He was a fighter and he accepted winning or losing with dignity. That's why your name is Ian. Your middle name is a nod to daddy loving trucks, cars, grease and being dirty...thus Ian Gage, a boy name was created. I hope you take that and apply what he represented in your own life. And when you think you can't try anymore, read his story to lift you up and make you a great boy to a man.
Because of complications, you came early..a month early. I was so scared. But as frightened as I was, I was so relieved. There you were dark hair, sounding like a duck, and healthy. When you came out the first thing I a said was, "oh, god he's got his daddy's hairline!" Please understand, I was in shock, there you were, I couldn't feel anything from the neck down. I had you via C-section and honestly I just wanted you out. They took you away and I made daddy leave me. He stayed by my side the whole time, holding my hand, but I wanted his eyes on you at all times. I couldn't hold you right away. I had to rest because I wasn't doing well. You were born at 8:38 am, but I didn't get to hold you until 6 pm. I couldn't wait. I cried tears of joy. You were perfect. I looked up at daddy and said, "look what we made."
I held you every second. I rocked you. You weren't a fussy baby. You loved it when I patted your butt and sang you to sleep. Now you tell me to stop singing. I used to tell you, we would "nuggle" and then we would both fall asleep in the rocking chair. Your smell, the eyes, that giggle. It was infections and I became a lioness to protect you instantly.
Then came the birthdays, you with this curly blond hair, you walked as soon as you turned a year old. On your first Halloween I dressed you up in a cow costume. Your second birthday you received a Wiggles car in which you screamed in excitement which made me cry again. You loved fruit and yogurt. You still do. You would tell me things were "bwoke". You loved to dance, being out doors, swinging and your wagon. I loved showing you off.
Now here we are. Your seven. Your a challenge, but one I love. Your funny like me, but dance like your father (very stiff). Your talented and smart. You still love the outdoors. Your kind hearted but stubborn. You are already brave. So my message to you is this. We love you so much. When you remind me at night to give you a hug and kiss before going to bed melts my heart. I demand you to clean your room and to be respectful and sometimes I don't hold you to it, but I do demand this. I demand that you have happiness. That you grow up to be respectful with manners. I demand that you love who you want to love and be whatever you want to be. I demand that no matter what you come to me or daddy and we will always be understanding. I demand you to be kind and fair and invite people into your heart regardless. I demand you not judge others but realize that we are all equal but stand up for what you believe in. I demand that you believe that all things are possible. In the end, I demand we always be a team. Happy Birthday my sweet boy.
a week old