Fluffernutter

Tomorrow is Christopher's fourth birthday. In 43 minutes, he will turn 4 and I will feel the world shift a little as my baby takes another step toward adulthood, toward becoming his own person, toward leaving me.
Tonight, though, is about me. At least, it is as much about me as it can be when I'm devoting a few hours to making cupcakes, cutting fruit and combining cream cheese and fluffernutter to make fruit dip.
Four years ago I was in labor. It was pretty painless at this point, after 30 hours of intense pain, followed by a break, followed by intense pain, followed by a longer break, followed by what-the-hell-is-going-on-here confusion. I never feared the pain of labor. I had my first baby 16 weeks into the pregnancy. It was so early that I hadn't started to worry about the pain yet, far enough along that I was too heartbroken that I had lost my baby to worry about or care about the pain. I wanted to die, too. Contractions were nothing.
So I went into Christopher's labor with a strange mindset. I was convinced that a baby of mine could never live, so his birth, while perfectly normal, was rather fraught. I hit the nurse's button and screamed at them in a panic when the heartbeat monitor slipped off my belly and I could not hear him. I didn't need to be told to push. I never thought to say, this is too hard, I don't want to do this anymore. I wanted to get that baby out of a body that had proven so dangerous for my other children.
And then he was here, and staring at me with those who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are eyes, ones that make me struggle to stifle my laughter when I see them today. He is a strong, healthy boy now. He swims, he runs, he yells and throws fits and wants to be read to all the time. He is perfect, and closer every day to being grown. And I love him more than I ever knew I could love anyone.