two

It's Labor Day weekend.
Which means camping, bbqs, and football.

In our house, it also means birthday cake.
Today marks the 2nd year since Beckham joined our family.

For some reason, I've been a total wreck emotional about it. 
Dylan knows not to even talk about it...because I'll start crying.
Immediately.
And then I try to explain...while crying. 
2 words: cry face.
1 word: hideous.

My pregnancy with Beckham was easy...I had morning sickness the first trimester.  I worked full time until 37 weeks.  And I gained an embarrassing amount of weigh (all in my face, awesome). 
Prepare yourself for stomach pictures, and skip ahead if you hate those....or value your peace of mind.
Oh, and I'm actually not sure why I'm half-naked in some of these.  Probably because it was August in Idaho and a million degrees:

i'm not as happy as i look here. 
sick. as. a. dog.
and living in a hot pink bedroom...which i didn't mind as much as dylan did.

like this picture...?!  i'm not sure why i felt the need to show my grotesque stomach.

After an amazing pedicure with LOTS of rubbing, I finally started having light (aka: unbearable) contractions... for 12 hours.  I went in for a routine checkup and couldn't even get up on the exam table.
I knew it was time. 
My doctor checked me and I remember her looking up at me (yes, up...she crouched down on the floor to check me.  I couldn't get on the table, remember?!) and saying, 'you're a 7...you need to go in right now.' 
She walked me to the elevator and through an underground tunnel that led to the hospital.
She never left my side.
Which meant a lot, because I was doing it alone.

Did I forget to mention that?!
Dylan was living in Oregon already...optometry school was in full swing. 
And I'd stayed behind to have baby #3.
With these two rats:


harper, almost 2 yrs old.  dawson, almost 3 years old.

 

As we waddled walked to the hospital, I called Dylan and told him I was in labor.
He was just walking into his Behavioral Optometry class (snore).
35 minutes and 3 pushes later, I met our perfect little boy.

don't mind my 7 chins...i told you it went to my face.

beckham, 1 hr old.

I remember being desperate to have him out...and my mom telling me that life would be so much easier if he'd just stay inside.
She was right...life became so much more hectic. 
For exactly 1 month, I had a newborn, 1 year old, and 2 year old.
And despite the chaos, and the diapers, and the sleepless nights... it has been wonderful.
And because Beckham is our last, I have really let myself enjoy every single moment with him.

He is quick to laugh.  He is very athletic and LOVES balls (or anything that looks like a ball...cantaloupe, bubbles, balloons...all balls to him).  He loves his siblings and asks about his daddy ALL DAY LONG (which sounds really sweet, but actually becomes obnoxious quite quickly).  He is a picky eater, still does not sleep through the night, and is completely spoiled...which I blame Dylan for.
He is handsome, hilarious, and has the bluest eyes I've ever seen. 

I can't imagine life without him.

Maybe the reason I'm so emotional is because I know that if I blink for too long, it will all be over.
That those chubby little fingers won't reach for mine anymore.  That I won't find him digging through my purse for gum.  And that someday way too soon, he'll realize how much potential he has... and my baby, won't be one anymore.
Happy happy birthday, to the sweetest little boy.

xo,
tracy