My Flag Day Baby

My third child, Charlie, is going to be 6 years old on June 14th. He will enter 1st grade in August, which, doesn't seem possible. Sometimes I feel as though he was just born. I remember his birth very vividly, as we already had two boys, so having a third was like the "tie breaker".

I believe that the best surprise in life is not knowing the sex of a baby before their birth. I've given birth four times and though I had several opportunities to find out the sex with each one, we decided against it. And I don't regret that decision at all, because I still remember the words of the doctor each time. "It's a boy." "It's a boy." It's a boy." "It's a....GIRL!" With c-sections, you can't see what's going on, as they put a curtain up as a barrier between you and the baby because...well, who wants to see all that blood? I wanted to give birth naturally, however, that was not possible for me. My genetic mix and small pelvic bones, combined with the "Huge Hanna Head" syndrome made it impossible for me to push a baby out. I tried for 22 hours between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with the first one, and I was not successful.

I remember driving to the hospital the morning of Charlie's birth, a planned c-section. It just so happened to be Flag Day, which I picked. Hey, if you can pick your kid's birthday, why not pick Flag Day? I felt so much excitement because, this being our third child, I felt strongly that it didn't matter whether the baby was a boy or a girl. If it were a girl, that would have been amazing. Many of you know how the "Hanna Curse" was broken once Maggie was born as it had been 120 years since a girl had been born into the Hanna family. However, I also felt very excited at the idea of having another boy. I loved my boys. I was very good as a mother of boys. They were dirty and silly and funny and rough and made me laugh nearly every second of every day...when I wasn't pulling my hair out. And I loved it. I loved being a mother of boys. So, if baby #3 were to be a boy, that would have been amazing too.

There was one specific feeling that I had during my pregnancy and eventual birthing experience with Charlie that I did not have with the other three children: peace. While I was carrying him, I felt such a sense of peace and calm. Sure, I worried about him. He was a very active baby in the womb, so he was constantly jabbing me in my ribs, or sitting on my bladder (that was fun). There were times when, our dog, Murphy, was resting on my lap, and baby Charlie would be so active that he would eventually kick the dog off my lap. However, he gave me such peace. I could hold my hand on my belly and feel ease in a second. I remember those days so fondly because they were such a gift.

When Charlie was born, I remember the first time I saw his sweet face. He was crying a little, but not much. He was chewing on his fist and he had dark hair. His little wrinkly body was warm and pink and squishy and I loved him more in that moment than when he was doing summersaults inside of me. I cherished that child instantaneously and when I looked at him, I felt calm. He had this aura around him that made me at ease just by looking at him. No one had ever had that effect on me.

Charlie was not an "easy" baby. He didn't enjoy nursing, he needed to be held and swaddled all of the time, and he didn't sleep at night. Ever. I remember walking into his room for the 4th time at 3:00am when he was 3 months old, and I looked down at him and said, "Buddy. You gotta give Momma a break. You need to get this sleeping thing under control." I picked him up and rocked him and smelled his sweet head and I felt peace. He couldn't talk to me, yet I felt as if he knew what I needed. It was shortly after that that Charlie started sleeping 6-7 hours at night. Momma was rested and happy.

Watching Charlie grow has been a blessing. He loves to laugh. His laugh is contagious. He loves to tell stories. He has a big sweet tooth and loves to be tickled. He's afraid of the dark, he knows how to dance, and he has amazing rhythm. Charlie has a beautiful smile. And it's his smile that brings such calm and peace to me.

While my mother was sick, Charlie was my best buddy. During the last 6 months of her life, she had, what seemed like weekly appointments with the oncologist. She had chemotherapy often and eventually radiation on her brain. While the older boys were in school, Charlie, at age 3, made the hour drive with me and Mom to Indianapolis. While she was getting treatment, Charlie would sit in the waiting room with me and charm every single person in the room. He would talk to each person. He would dance. He would tell jokes. He would give high-fives and fist-bumps. And he would laugh. The people in the waiting room with me were cancer patients, many of whom were in their final stages of life. They appeared sad, empty, and defeated. And, what I witnessed in those moments was nothing short of a miracle. My Charlie brought something beautiful into the lives of people who had not felt joy in several days, or even weeks or months. His aura was incredible. He was only 3 years old, but his presence was huge. He made people smile with his smile, and laugh with his laugh. He brought calm. He brought peace. And all I did was sit back, and watch it happen. And how blessed am I, that I got to witness that?

When my mother would come out of the treatment room, she would smile, her big, radiant smile. "That's my grandson," she would say. Then she would tell others about her amazing grandchild, Charlie, who could light up a room full of dying people. Her words...not mine. And, of the three boys, it was only Charlie who was not afraid to see my dying mother in her last days. He talked to her, he winked at her, and he touched her hand.

And so, it is with these memories, that I can only think of peace when I think of my Charlie; my baby born on Flag Day. Happy birthday sweet Charlie. My heart is bursting with love for you.