"But I AM three!"

So says Jesse. He's been insisting he's three years old for months now.

Well, today it is official. My boy is three. My baby, my first born, my "best boy"... three years old. How did this happen?

Maybe because the details surrounding his birth are always present in the front of my mind even though I choose still not to face them all, it seems like it wasn't so long ago. March 18, 2006 was the most frightening, traumatizing, and heart wrenching day of my life. It was also the most glorious day. It was the day I became a mother. The day I stepped into the role I believe I was born to fill. The day my gorgeous red haired, blue eyed boy was pulled from my body. He did not breathe, he did not cry, his heart did not beat. God had his hand on Jesse Daniel and He breathed life into him and protected him and here we are three years later. Happy, healthy, full of energy, love and life.

Jesse is an amazing child. He takes my face in both his hands, pulls me toward him and says, "I love you, Mama," and gives me a squinty eyed smile and my heart melts every time. He's so grown up in many ways, yet still like the baby I recall in others. He wants to be independent and do it all himself, he speaks like an adult at times, he comes up with thoughts and ideas that blow my mind. He loves to snuggle in close, asks "Hold me like a baby" when he nurses, cries when he doesn't get his way. He challenges me and keeps me on my toes. I have learned to love in a way that was new to me, I've been more frustrated than I knew was possible, I have found patience within I never knew I had. He taught me how to mother, he led the way as I learned, as he grows I grow along with him.

I am blessed. I thank God for the miracle that is Jesse every day of my life. I love you, Buddy. Happy birthday!

First time meeting Jesse in the NICU - 14 hours old

Jesse's first dentist appointment - February 2009

Independence

When did my little boy grow up so much?

"No! I!" That's Jesse's new favorite statement. The "I" part comes out more like "Iiiiiiiiiiiya!" with a bit of a whine behind it.

Try holding his hand, opening the gate, helping him with his shoes, getting him into his car seat, pouring him a cup of milk... "NO, Mama! I!!!"

We took the boys to Kennywood last week with my family. Jesse took off quite a few times, motorcycling (he puts his hands out like he's a motorcycle, makes the noise with his mouth, and "drives" around, weaving back and forth, going in circles, popping the occasional wheely) around. I asked him countless times to stay with me, hold my hand, stick close. Nope. He wanted to be free. "I wan run!" One time I let him go and followed him from 15 feet behind, craning my neck to watch him through the crowd. He ran off, motorcycling about - with people grinning or chuckling at the little red head with glasses acting like a dirt bike - for almost 20 minutes. He went a few hundred yards. Never stopped. Never looked back. Never got scared or cried for mama.

I watch him with a sense of pride mixed with sadness. He's so grown up. He's so confident and fearless. I should be so proud. And I am. But at times I long for that dependent boy who needed his mama for everything. His independence will only grow from here. Someday - far, far off, I hope! - he will be on his own and completely dependent of me. Millions of parents have reached that point before I will.

I wonder if the pride overcomes the sadness?

I bet it does.