This month, five years ago. . .

When the month started, I waddled when I walked, could no longer sleep on my back, and desperately missed a regular an occasional after-work beer. It had been a long time. . . My pregnancy had come easily, unexpectedly, and had gone smoothly. My life was still my own, and it felt familiar to me, even if my body didn't.

By month's end, it was a completely different life. I was a different me. I was mother to a beautiful baby boy. My first child. A baby boy with a head full of black hair and eyes the color of the deep blue ocean. I had wondered what he looked like. Now I knew. I didn't realize he'd have so much hair. I didn't think his eyes would be so blue. He had a cut on the side of his perfect little nose, we still don't know what from. He had all his fingers, all his toes. He had the sweetest, smallest ears. I had never seen him before, and yet he was instantly familiar to me. It was quite remarkable to me that all those baby parts had fit inside my body not so long ago.

Who was this child? The one who seemed to know his place was with me, despite my own ambivalence and uncertainty about being his mother. I was so scared. He wasn't. He simply was. He quieted when I held him. He cried only when I didn't. He was so clear in his eyes. He seemed to look knowingly at the world around him. He didn't have that cross-eyed newborn look.

Although he could get that, too.

I wondered if I'd be a good mother. . .if I was worthy of him. I wonder that still. Sometimes, deep down near the core of me, I worry that I'm not. I can only hope that I am. At the very least, I try. I've never tried so hard at anything else in my life. We've had our ups and downs, Nicky and me. He's taught me a lot. I hope that I sometimes return that favor.

When he was born, I didn't think I knew him. How could I, I thought. I've only just met him. I see now that I knew him better than I thought. In the womb, he didn't punch or kick me often. He rolled and pushed. If his foot was tucked uncomfortably under my rib, I could push it softly, and he'd move it. Ever gentle and agreeable. He's not about big movements. He rolls when life pushes. He doesn't kick or punch his way through. He's often content to sit quietly and get lost in his drawing or in his own imagination. He doesn't clamor for attention or go out of his way to make himself noticed.

They say still waters run deep. This child is still waters. You could drown in the depths of him, and he's still so young.

He'll be five this month. This sweet baby of mine. He's growing up. Much too fast. I try to savor every moment, but it's like trying to catch the falling rain. The drops come so fast and just disappear. Time just flows. Quickly. By.

Home from the hospital
At two months

At four

At six months

And more. At one year

Two years

Three years

And four

Happy Birthday, Sweet Child!

*Quick note. Today is not Nicky's birthday. July is just his birth month.