One short year ago today was my due date. Since my first visit to the doctor in August of 2009, when the nurse practitioner spun the little wheel and announced March 2 as the day, I had been counting down. I had a great pregnancy. No swelling, no high blood pressure, no gestational diabetes. Yes, my back hurt a lot. I couldn’t tie my shoes by the end and forget about bending over to pick something up off the ground. But I had my eyes on the prize – March 2. About that time I wrote this and this.

When I came home from work on March 2, 2009 and was not in labor, Derek took this picture of me:

I’m holding the chalk board that we used to count down to March 2. Notice it says “0 Days.” I wondered if we’d start counting in negative days after that Monday. But it just switched to Derek’s handwriting proclaiming, “Come on Baby!”

Behind that unsure smile was me wishing, hoping and waiting to go into labor. The end of pregnancy can be a scary time. So much uncertainty. Soooooo many feelings.

But tonight, one year from my due date, I held my little boy, 5 days shy of his first birthday, long after he had fallen asleep in my arms. He’s so perfect.  And I cannot put into words how happy this little boy whose hands somehow always smell like graham crackers, even when he hasn’t been eating graham crackers, makes me. He was cuddled onto my shoulder, completely relaxed, comfortable and safe. And there on the couch in the dark living room, with American Idol softly playing in the background, my eyes filled with tears and I felt a contentment and happiness that was not possible 365 days ago.


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