I know how it sounds, but there were so many things I loved about staying at home with Jamie those first nine weeks. I loved how he would wake up and stare into my eyes. I loved how he would turn at the sound of my voice. I loved how he would make the softest sounds I ever heard. I loved how he had a tendency to give the camera the middle finger.
He was such a good baby. I was spoiled. In fact, I started thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t have more kids, none could possibly be as well behaved as Jamie. Don’t get me wrong, we had our moments, and sometimes they were rough, but there was something about Jamie. No one is perfect. I’ve always believed that…. but looking at Jamie I knew that he was perfect for me. That he was perfectly Jamie.
Jamie and I did everything together. When I went back to work, I couldn’t wait to pick him up from daycare. We’d go home, snuggle up, and take naps together. It was so….. right. On the weekends, he’d wake up early, by 6am. I knew when he was ready to get up, because his head would pop up, and he’d make this “ooo ooo” sound. We called it The Prairie Dog. Once I saw TPD, I knew it was useless to try to sleep more.
Those mornings, I’d get up, and Jamie and I would bundle up while David slept and we’d head out and get breakfast and do the grocery shopping. I loved shopping with Jamie. We talked about everything! The best type of brand to buy, the cool toys on the end caps, how long the check out lines were. Jamie cooed and stared right at me. He would always stare right at me.
For the first time in my life I never worried about what other people thought about me. I would sing, dance, make silly faces, and make bizarre sounds just to see Jamie’s eyes light up and a smile spread across his face. I loved not caring. I was so thankful that Jamie gave me that gift. Remember the girl who couldn’t sharpen her broken pencil because she’d have to walk in front of the class? Boy, she would be shocked to see us now.
I loved how he never met a camera or a mirror he didn’t like (he gets that from his dad). I loved how when he saw the camera flash he would immediately start cheesing it up. If he was fussy or in a bad mood, all you had to do was turn on the camera. I loved that.
I loved hearing his first words. When he was very young he’d say “mamamamamama” when he was sad, “dadadada” when he was happy, and “gegegegege” when he was angry. He said “uh oh” one day when I dropped an earring I was trying to put in. He said “Oscar,” the name of my mother-in-law’s dog, anytime he saw a dog. He spoke. One time while shopping at Wegmans I got him to say “‘cuse us” every time we passed another shopper.
Then it stopped. No more words. That is probably one of the hardest things. I miss his words. I miss the words he would have spoken. I know Jamie loves me as much as I love him, but it would so nice to hear the words. You don’t realize how much it matters…. not hearing them. I know he loves me. I feel it when he grabs my face, and looks deep in my eyes before giving me a kiss. When he comes running at me full speed when I pick him up from school. When he reaches out to hold my hand while we eat dinner. When he cuddles in close to watch tv, just for a minute. I can feel that he loves me. I can see that he loves me. So, I say “I love you” for the both of us. For now.
