Welcome, Milo

Milo Kevin Swicker

Born October 13th, 2011 at 5:37 am

6 pounds, 13 ounces, 20 inches

Hello my sweet, precious, pumpkin of a child.  You have arrived!  You’ve actually already been here for 11 days, but you keep Daddy and I on our toes.  This is the first chance I’ve had to sit down and write all the things that I’ve been whispering in your ear since you finally came into my arms two Thursday mornings ago.

You were born in Leominster hospital by the midwives.  Daddy and Aunt Laurel were there, and Mimi was on her way to the airport, keeping up to date with text messages.  My water broke while I was teaching earlier that morning (October 12th), but I didn’t know that’s what it was and I stayed for the whole school day.  By the time I went to the hospital to check it out, I was sure it was just another false alarm.  I left my classroom a tiny bit messy, took out pizza dough for Daddy and I’s dinner, and stopped in at the Labor and Delivery ward to find out that you were actually well on your way!  I was so shocked and happy that I got very flustered.  They told me I could go home to take a shower and eat some dinner before I needed to come back and get started.  The whole 2 minute drive home I kept saying out loud “I’m going to have a baby.”  I was crazy with excitement.

At the hospital, they explained that they would have to give me some medicine to start my contractions, and that I would sleep the whole night with something called Cervadil on me, to get me ready to give birth the next morning.  They gave me the Cervadil and Aunt Laurel and I settled in to watch some TV.  Daddy needed to return his work car to the pharmacy about 45 minutes away.  He decided to do it quickly right then so that he could be by my side the next morning when I was having you.  Of course, you had different ideas.  No sooner had he left then I started feeling contractions that were very different than anything I had felt before.  You weren’t waiting for tomorrow morning.  I was having you right then.  I started having contractions at 9pm, and by 5:37am, they were plopping you on my chest.  Daddy and Aunt Laurel saw you being born, and were the first people to hold and snuggle you.  You were perfect from the start.

You had your first bath, your first meal, and your first check up in the morning hours; Daddy went with you on your adventures while I rested from the work of getting you here.  You had visits from Nonna and Grampy, Uncle Andrew and Irene, Mimi, and Aunt Laurel, all during your first two days of life.  You were the demonstration baby in the nursery when one of the nurses taught us how to give babies a bath.  You screamed the entire time, and showed off how strong you are by trying to flip over when they had the nerve to wash you with those wet cloths!  You were called the Prince and King by all the staff, because you were the only boy out of 12 babies on the floor the entire time we were there; even other moms and dads knew all about you.  What a star.

You came home on October 15th in the afternoon.  You screamed from the second we left our room and for the entire journey to the car.  In the old days, there was fanfare when you left and someone wheeled the mama in a wheelchair for safety.  Now, we were hiding in the elevator, trying to rip open a package of pacifiers without the lactation consultant (who had suggested we not use pacifiers or bottles) noticing our crime.  I honestly thought someone would say, “Who are these kids and what are they doing making that baby wail like that?”  But no one stopped us, and we got you to the house safely and soundly.

You met Penguin, our big cat, who is wary of you when you scream but very respectful of your space.  You mostly hang out in the pack’n’play bassinet in the living room by day, bedroom by night.  You like the swing and riding in the car.  You hate initially being buckled into the car seat.  You’ve been to Target, the pediatrician’s office, and Hannaford.  You sleep much, much better when you are snuggled against a chest, but if you are full with a dry diaper, you will also be a champion sleeper in the bassinet.  You pee everywhere when we take off your diaper.  You like a certain green pacifier called a Soothie, which is adorable.  You make little old man faces and squeal like a dolphin when you are mad.  We call you Milosh, Beeba, and Aunt Laurel calls you Little.  Your screaming doesn’t make us nervous anymore, and we often mock your little wails when we’re changing you.  We say, “Life is hard for a baby!” and you make the saddest little whimpery cry and agree.

We are absolutely crazy about you.  This morning, Daddy looked at you and said, “He’ll never be this precious again, will he?”  I think he might have been choking up- don’t tell him I told you that.  You’re our entire heart and world, Milo Kevin.


One thought on “Welcome, Milo

  1. I always knew you were a wonderful girl. I had no idea that I could be more in love with you until you became such a wonderful mom to that precious little boy. ❤

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