Little Loganberry HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FIRSTBORN
ou were due the day before Halloween, but I hoped you would come early because I didn’t want you to be doomed to Halloween-themed birthday parties for the rest of your life. In Lamaze class, when we were urged to write down what we hoped our baby would be, I put a blue-eyed, brown-haired little boy. I wanted you to have your daddy’s eyes but my complexion. I wanted a big brother who would one day protect his little sister. I had to keep a kick-count card to make sure you were still moving around in there. The doctor wanted 10 kicks in a half hour. You would give me 10 kicks in two minutes. I had three dreams you would be a boy so I was certain it was true. When Daddy, who never remembers his dreams, said he dreamed of the perfect name for you (Logan), I wasn’t convinced it would suit my firstborn child. Logan Wheeler just didn’t sound … presidential enough to me. I’d just finished my last parentteacher conference, held a week sooner than the rest of the fifth-grade teachers in case you decided to come early. I swear I had just thought, “OK, you can come out now,” when the first contraction came. I felt like I was giving birth to a little prince because we were the first to use the new birthing suite at Kaiser South
KW By Kelli Wheeler Momservations
IA OCT n 17
Sac and we had the whole maternity floor to ourselves. It was so quiet on Oct. 24, 1999. I was pushing to the sound of the Yankees playing the Braves in the World Series. Dr. Udofia said you’d be born when the Braves got a hit. You arrived at 8:30 p.m. just as Chipper Jones finally broke a shutout in the ninth with a lead-off single. Gammy likes to say your hair was born first because you had a thick head of hair when you were born, and blue eyes like your daddy—who cried tears of joy when he realized he had a
healthy son. Your cry was gentle and undemanding, and when the nurse floated you in your first warm bath, you quickly quieted into contented repose. Everyone crowded into the spacious birthing suite to welcome you: Nana, Pa, Gammy, Grampa, Auntie Zann and even Mommy and Daddy’s best friends, Brian and Jen (with Jen just months away from giving birth to your very first best friend, Meghan Mahoney). Daddy was right. You were a Logan. A precious, sweet Little Loganberry.
During the nine months you grew inside me, Daddy and I imagined often who might be in there and what you would be like. Funny how you and God gave us all these clues, but we were too inexperienced to understand that the Logan we would one day come to know and instantly love telegraphed who you were from the beginning: a very busy boy with beautiful blue eyes like your daddy and your mommy’s olive skin. Our sweet, sensitive little prince who hates to be late, a rule-following pleaser and leader who watches over his sister, makes friends easily and is a great athlete (especially at baseball and football), who still loves soaking in the hot tub. I can’t believe you are already 18, Logan. An adult in the eyes of the law, but forever our Little Loganberry. Where others see a big, strong, bearded man with thick John F. Kennedy hair and looks, Daddy and I will always see our firstborn baby. The day I had you, my heart began walking outside my body. These years under the same roof have been too fleeting—such an achingly short portion of what I hope will be a wonderful and beautiful life. I will always thank God for choosing me to be your mommy, and I’ll never stop praying for your good health, happiness and safety. Our door will always be open, waiting for my heart to come home. Enjoy the journey, Little Loganberry. Kelli Wheeler is an author, family columnist and freelance writer. For weekly Momservations or to contact her, go to momservations.com. n