A day of remembering

I remember a time before David. But those memories are strangely vague and slightly askew.

I remember when David looked tiny in his car seat, and his head went over the bear head in the middle of the seat.

I remember when we would put him down on his back in the crib or the bassinet, and he would stay where we put him.

I remember when I could pick him up with one hand.

I remember weighing him in a bowl on the kitchen scale.

I remember weighing him at the UPS Store.

I remember when his hair was thick and black and stood up straight.

I remember when rolling over was new.

I remember when he found his feet.

I remember measuring his meals in milliliters.

I remember being happy when he only woke up twice a night.

I remember when he first slept through the whole night. And how excited we were to see if he would do it again that we didn’t sleep through the next night, even though he did.

I remember when the doctor first said “You have a perfect baby.”

I remember how soft his hair was. I had never felt anything so soft in the world.

I remember when his hands were tiny.

I remember the phone call in our kitchen telling us he had been born. And the phone calls in New York telling us about his birthparents, and then telling us that they had chosen us to become his parents. And sitting outside the hospital on the park bench waiting for the phone call telling us that we could come meet David’s birthparents and our son. And the phone calls we made from Florida to tell our parents that they had a grandchild. And the phone call telling us we could buy our plane tickets home. And the phone call in the agency office while the judge finalized the adoption.

I remember shopping for a crib.

I remember friends giving us support, and advice, and toys, and clothes, and baby gear, and help moving everything in our house from one room to another, and reference letters, and love.

I remember the ride to the airport, not knowing what would happen, full of hope and scared to death and trusting each other.

Nothing has changed since then.

And, of course, everything has changed since then.