Owen Edison

Tiny Guy

Three years ago today we brought into the world the smallest of the tribe. Weighing in at 2 pounds .3 oz he was a small fry. I remember being so scared when I went in for the emergency c-section. They had someone come in and talk to me about "the baby" and what to expect. I had already spent 5 weeks in the hospital and had my fair share of blood transfusions, daily blood draws (ironic, right?), steroid shots to develop baby's lungs, and lots more shots of all sorts of things to stop the contractions and keep him in. Now, he wasn't willing to stay in any more. He was 27 weeks when he was born. Too early, but long enough to have a fighting chance on the outside.We did what we could to keep him in as long as we could. Hoping it would be enough.

Holding my small fry

Shaunton barely made it in time to witness the birth of our third child. The sensation of a c-section is really weird. I remember them saying he was out. Shaunton said they pulled him out by his feet. Which I guess means by his legs, since his feet weren't even big enough to hold onto. I remember that he didn't cry. I remember that he has a head full of hair. I remember that he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Calm. They were surprised that he opened his eyes. They were surprised that he was breathing on his own. (Which didn't last very long, he soon needed help.) He was covered with a blanket, so I didn't really see how tiny he really was. But he still looked tiny wrapped. They took me to recovery. The took me to a room. They didn't take me to my baby. I didn't see him again until the next day. When I did, I cried.

  

I took pictures but didn't look at them. I knew I would want them later. They were too scary for me to look at. To think about . I just focused on pumping for him and watching the other two. I visited every night and held him when he was big enough. I couldn't stay at the hospital all the time. I felt guilty. Up and down the emotions and weight went until the day of his release. I was overjoyed when he came home 12 weeks later.

 

Fast forward three years. I have a rough and tough three year old boy. A boy who has already broken bones, lost nails, skinned knees, and rolled with the punches. He is fairly indestructible. He loves to argue with his older sister, imitate his older brother and smother his younger one with kisses. He is a daddy's boy. He loves Cars, Toy Story, and playing outside in the dirt. He likes to turn sticks into light sabers or guns, depending on his mood. He likes to do it himself.  He is my kid with the big eyes and the all too recent first hair cut. You won't know that he started out his life is such dramatic fashion. He resembles any other just turned three year old boy...except he is my little boy.

I know that Heavenly Father has purpose for him. I know that this experience happened to me (and our family) for a reason. We have gained something from it. We don't fully understand it, but will be privy to that information when the time is right. Until then, we can know that Heavenly Father loves us, hears our prayers, answers our late night and fervent prayers, and blesses us more than we can ever truly comprehend or appreciate.I am eternally grateful for a Heavenly Father who was willing to give me a trial and let me draw closer to him. I am thankful for a happy, healthy, independent, free spirited, book reading, dinosaur growling, block stacking, train loving, brother kissing, sister annoying, brother imitating, little boy that will be with me for infinity and beyond!

Happy Birthday Owen! We love you! Surely you are my favorite-est little boy in the whole wide world!

(Holding up three fingers is going to take some practice!)