My baby turns one today. Exactly a year ago, Tony and I were pacing the hospital corridor, trying to figure out if those were real contractions, or if they were the false ones that I'd been having throughout the pregnancy. He was breech anyways, and a c-section had already been scheduled for two days later. We saw the doctor, who said that there was "no percentage" in waiting, as he was stubbornly sideways, and the contractions and pain were certainly real enough, and I'd probably show up that night needing an emergency c-section, amidst the chaos of a Saturday night in the ER.
So early in the afternoon of September 10, 2005, Geoffrey was born. He weighed in at 8 lb 2 oz, just a hair lighter than his brother.
He lived in my fleece sling for most of his first year, when he wasn't nursing voraciously. By five months, he weighed 20 lbs!
This photo of the babies in my moms' group was published in the local newspaper last Christmas. Geoffrey's the sumo wrestler in the middle, all calm and mellow.
Geoffrey idolizes his big brother. Before he could crawl, he just would follow his brother with his head. Nowadays, he crawls after his brother like Andrew's his own personal demigod. A flawed demigod who hits him at random intervals, and plays with him at other times, but still someone to look up to, and to try to emulate as much as possible.
(I couldn't resist a photo of Geoff in his birthday suit, after his bath last night.) Happy birthday to you, dear Geoffrey. Happy birthday to you!