The Evolution of a Boy
Month 1
Month 2
Month 3
Month 4
Month 5
Month 6
Month 7
Month 8
Month 9
Month 10
Month 11
Month 12
On that day that he was born, it was the beginning and the end--an unceremonious, vulgar welcome for a burgeoning life. The first three days of Ethan's solo existence retain the enduring clarity that few events produce; if in the future age or disease begins to take my memory, I'm certain that those 72 hours in the hospital will be one of the precious mile markers in my personal history that is never lost, or fully understood.
At three or so in the morning on Ethan's first day in the world, he and I sat in the impersonal hospital bed, looking at each other in the dim light of nearby activity. He could barely open his eyes, even in the darkness, but he strained through the blur of new vision to look at me as I looked at him with my blurry new vision, as yet nameless to each other. We stared at each other for several minutes, communicating silently one final time as a mother and child who know each other only by the sound of a heartbeat. For one last moment, reveling in the pristine.