Gabriel James

When you were born, you were 6lbs, 8oz.  Which isn't that small for a newborn, but compared to Andrew, who came it at 8lbs 4 oz, you seemed tiny.  You were alert and looking around, content in your crib.  Andrew was not.  As a baby he wanted to be held, bounced, and fed almost constantly, so you were, in comparison, the easiest baby ever.  As I figured out how to breast feed the two of you, and in the haze of twin new born existence, and given that I had a c-section, I don't think you got enough to eat in the first few days of your life.  I know you didn't, because you went to the NICU after a nurse noticed you having a shuttering response when you were unswaddled. You glucose was low, and they wanted to start an IV right away.

I won't ever forget the 10-15 minutes between when they tested your glucose the first time (by pricking the bottom of your foot), feeding you a bottle, then re-testing it.  The nurse expressing concern that the number wasn't higher.  Me sitting in the hospital room with my mom, not sure what to do.  I can picture you laying on your side, crying out a small little cry that was high pitched.  It was just one cry and then you fell back asleep.  I remember feeding Andy, being confused about what side to try with you all, him not being content, my mom saying "save that side for Gabe".  I remember you would fall asleep eating, and I was never sure if I should wake you up or let you be done.  I remember feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, broken apart from the surgery of c-section, missing Dan, who was at a wedding.  And I remember the doctor coming in and telling me they were taking you to the NICU.  I started crying immediately and she was trying desperately to reassure me that it would be ok.  They handed you to me to kiss you goodbye, and all I wanted to do was hold you as close as possible and make it all ok.  Even right now, you're sleeping soundly in the other room and I want to go pick you up.

Once you were in the NICU, it was fairly straight forward.  The only glitch was that they had to put your IV in your head, so it was a bit alarming to see you there with a giant IV sticking out of your tiny head.  You did great.  You got better fast.  It gave me an excuse to tell them to give Andy a bottle (which he took, and, in fairness was probably starving too).  I remember holding you there as you slept, crying, and picturing you as a rambunctious little boy.  I prayed and prayed.  All I wanted was for you to have the chance to grow up and play and be a little boy.

Well, lets just say that God has answered that prayer.  You are now 18 months 2 years (I'm bad at finishing posts) and more rambunctious, playful, loud, dynamic little boy than I can handle.  Whatever you do, you do it with gusto.  You learned to jump, but calling it jumping feels like a gross understatement.  You launch yourself off of a step, or couch, or table, with all the force you can muster, landing on two feet with an audible "GAAAAAHHH", much like a professional tennis playing after hitting a ball. You are huge.  Literally off the charts by every measure.  You are just THICK.  I wouldn't say fat, because you don't look over weight.  You are just one solid chunk of muscle.

You eat so much.  I rarely feel like I can feed you enough, but if I go back through what you have already eaten that meal, I think "HOW IN THE WORLD IS THIS NOT ENOUGH YET?!  HOW MANY CHEESE STICKS CAN YOU EAT?!"

When you laugh, you throw your head back and burst into a solid fit of laughter.  Everything with you is more.  Your joy is huge.  Your anger is intense.  You feel guilt and go and hide your face in a pillow so you don't have to look at us.   You run everywhere, and walk no where.  Obstacles are to be jumped off of or demolished immediately.

As we've brought home Teddy, you ask for him all the time.  When I bring him in a room you exclaim "Baby Teddy!  Hold Baby Teddy!"  You give him kisses.

You are constantly narrating what's going on for us.  You have so much to say, just not all the words to say it.  Yet.  Although you are getting there and once you do, I have a feeling you'll share your father's desire to share whatever captures your interest with whoever is around.  This goes for positive and negative things.  The other day, Dan told you to take something into the playroom that you didn't want to take there.  You knew you had to obey, so you did, and then proceeded to stand on the edge of the playroom, right on the border to the kitchen and yell at him about it.

If we make something into a game, it grabs your interest immediately.  Dan put up the little basketball hoop in the play room and I can't believe how long you will stand in front of it, line up a shot, and then just shoot.  Basket after basket.  You want to get better at a skill and practice it until you've mastered it.  Now when it's time to go to bed, Dan will say "Gabe, make one more shot, and then we're done".  And you love it.  You giggle as you run off after the ball, try to make a shot, and then when you do, you smile huge and run upstairs.

You are kind and sincere.  You don't think to deceive or be anything other than your authentic self.  And I love that I know you're not playing a game with me.  You are named after the angel who told Mary and others about the coming of Jesus.  I pray that you will always be telling other people about what excites you, and that first and foremost that will be the love and grace of God.  I pray that your strength and integrity will earn the trust of those around you.  And I pray that your zeal and intensity for life with lead you into adventures.