Dear Espen,
You were about 48 hours old when I discovered it: when you cried, if I held you to my face, nose to nose, you calmed instantly. The touch. The touch is what makes you so darn endearing. The other day I was running errands with you and your dad, and when I came back to the car, you were both in your seats, but he had reached behind his seat and you behind yours to hold hands. You needed the connection and to be touched. We hold hands everytime you nurse. If you're restless at night, we put you on your stomach and hold your hand and you go right to sleep. You experience things through touch. This makes you the snuggliest.
I had no idea when you emerged from my womb one year ago today at 12:29 p.m., cold and furious to be out of the warmth of my body, how in love with you we'd fall. (That experience, watching you emerge from me and take your first breaths, was the most incredible experience of my life.)
Each night as we snuggle and I read you your night-night book, I smooth your hair, kiss your head and tell you how special you are. I couldn't have predicted the magic that you bring to us, the sense of balance and harmony you bring to our family. Your disposition seems to be No Biggie, to just about everything. You started drinking regular milk this week, no biggie. You're sitting at a toddler table at daycare, no biggie. You stole a piece of pizza from your father's hand this week, what?
I didn't imagine before we met how much you'd look like my late father and your namesake, James. Each time you bust out into a wide grin and your eyes light up, it's like getting a special visit from him. Also, someone today called you Bright Eyes, which is what your Big Papa's dad, also a James, used to call me. I thought that was pretty special and fitting for today.
I had no idea how special boys are compared to girls. I've said this a hundred times this year, but with your sister I feel compelled to raise her as a strong woman. With you, I just want to run away with you. We're having a love affair, I tell people. And we are. You and I are tight and I now understand why moms of sons are a little nuts about their sons. The thought of you leaving me and marrying someone had me in a tears a few months ago. Your father reminded me that was a few years off.
The last year has gone so incredibly fast. I would say I'm sad that you're not a wee baby anymore, but you're so much fun now and getting more fun each month. This week you learned how to play peek-a-boo with your sister and now hide from her and delight in jumping up and surprising her. You bring so much joy to our family.
Happy Birthday Espen James Wentzel. We couldn't love you more.
