My Baby...Love Your Way...

August approaches...wow...summer seems to be flying by, no? It makes me a little anxious, I must admit...like I need to capture every moment, every feeling, every sight and sound and taste and smell and bottle them up...You know, like the way the sun reflects off the pool in little bobbing, wavy streaks...and that splash you hear when one of the kids jumps in the water...and there's the endless floating and the hot sand under your feet...and your neighbor's charcoal grill, all smoky and festive, you just know there is a juicy T-bone sizzling up over there and it is calling your name...which reminds me that there is the al fresco dining, breakfast, lunch and dinner...and the farm fresh tomatoes and basil and sweet corn and nectarines and watermelon...and the lights on the ferris wheel lighting the night...soft serve ice cream and fudge and zeppoles on the boardwalk (I am in NJ, after all...)...and then at night those crickets and tree frogs setting the scene with their background buzz. I know...summer isn't all rainbows and unicorns...there are those massive thunderstorms, so furious they are almost biblical, and in an instant they can put an end to a perfectly good backyard bash....and waiting on those steamy (Congo hot, even) subway platforms...how you are all sweaty and flushed and frizzy by the time you hit the office...and of course there are rip-tides and shark attacks and capsized boats...but those are few and far between, no? And don't those minor threats pale in comparison to the way the salt sticks to your skin and hair after a day spent in the ocean air...how it covers your whole being and you feel endlessly warm and summery...and then, you take that post beach shower...and you're all pink and glowing and tingly, damp-haired, dressed in your little terrycloth cover-up, kicking back on the deck in the breeze, a sunset cocktail in hand. Delicious, right?

But there is another reason that I love summer...in fact, the month of August marks the anniversary of one of the greatest moments in my life...

My jealous and possessive youngest child was born to me six years ago this week...and he was and has been different in almost every way from my first two...from the beginning. Ellie and Tim were these planned out beings, from the moment I considered having them...I timed it and figured on their due dates and the amount of spread between them and what their names would be. And news of their impending births brought such joy and excitment...the first new babies in my family in years. And then, they were both born, as you may remember, under incredibly unique circumstances (Y2K) and in the immediate wake of astounding, earth-shattering events (September, 2001). So I suppose that should have proven to me that you never know...you cannot plan anything or know what is coming around the bend. But when I learned that I was pregnant with my third, I was bowled over, in disbelief...as if I didn't know how it happened. And so, I retreated. Now you know me, I am an extrovert...always ready for fun and family and celebration...but instead, this time, I was, for some reason, reluctant to share the news with my parents and siblings and friends...so I kept a teary distance. And forget about work...what would they think of me...this baby machine, three babies in less than four years. The joy that I had encountered the first two times was buried somewhere within me...I couldn't rouse it...and I carried on as such for the first 16 weeks of my pregnancy. I know, looking back, I can't believe it either. Eventually the feeling lifted, and soon I looked forward to meeting this baby...and I was excited and happy and bonding...

So flash forward a few months.... the kid was 10 days late...a monster from the get-go. When I finally did go into labor, it was so unlike the last two times in which I was writhing and yelping and whining...this time it was all going incredibly smoothly and perfectly and all seemed right. And then the doctor came in, we were ready to birth...and suddenly, in a succession of increasingly frantic and coded interplay between she and the nurse, she jumped on top of me...straddling me on the gurney, her hand pressed up

against me, holding the baby in, yelling to everyone "go! go! go!"...and they wheeled me across the hall into an OR and told me that I was having an emergency C-section... The nurses were all nervous energy, prepping me and I could hear the doctor saying "hurry up! hurry up!"... Then I saw the anesthesiologist run in, grab my hand and plug a needle into my wrist...I watched as this grey-black liquid flowed through the tube...and that is the last thing I remember....

I woke to the doctor calling my name: "Suzanne, Suzanne...you have a son..." They told me that the baby had been cut off from my blood supply, his chord having slipped out too soon, ahead of him...and that it was a very serious, life-threatening situation, that we were blessed and lucky that he had survived. They wheeled me in to see him, held by his father, all swaddled and pink and teeny tiny, like a baby doll with his little blue cap...and he was looking right at me, eyes wide open, face to face...and from that moment on, he held my heart completely. How could I have ever doubted that he was meant to be?

So here is the part where I become all profuse and besotted...don't say I didn't warn you...

William Frederick Rittereiser Anderson...named for my beloved Gramps, the only other person on earth who could be such a g**damn ballbuster and still have me falling at his feet...my favorite quality in a guy. My only summer baby, a Leo, the Lion, the King...and boy, does he personify that distinction. Will is sarcastic and aggressive and relentlessly mischievous....he had become a pro at the fine art of the "time-out" before his brother, Tim, 23 months older, had ever even had one...in fact, as it stands today, Tim has yet to misbehave quite enough to warrant a "time-out." Will is extra protective and possessive...the only one of my children to climb into my lap if I held another child, elbowing the interloper out of the way, ensuring he, and he alone, stands between me and the rest of the world... And, of course, my other two have learned to reluctantly defer to him...to know that he will always fight the hardest.

But Will is excessively loyal...not to mention fearless, gregarious and totally hilarious...enough personality for 10 men. He is also loving and sensitive -- always certain to be the very last to kiss and hug me as I walk out the door, unabashedly yelling "I love you" to all of us...and ending each night by saying: "Mommy, I love you eight thousand, nine hundred, infinity and a google..." Be still my heart. He is an architecture and carpentry junkie, insisting that one day he will build me a mansion with his own two hands...he loves the City and its buildings...always wondering how long before he can take part in the planning and construction of one...his very own skyscraper. And we bond quite readily through our shared love for food and his willingness to try...to be adventurous and eat escargots at every meal if he could.

But most of all, Will loves to interact and ask questions...constant questions about truly intelligent pursuits and theories and concepts and philosphies -- life and death...humanity...love....afterlife. One time, I heard him tell Tim, matter-of-factly, that when you die, you are born again as someone else. And Tim goes: "Really? is that true?" and Will was like: "well, yeah, duh..." I have no idea how he knew.

When Will was about three it became clear that he was a leftie...something that caused him embarrassment as he grew, sensitive to being different than Ellie and Tim. Over and over I told him that lefties are special...that they grow to be successful and dynamic and charming and respected leaders...our last three presidents are all lefties, I told him. He would tell me that he was a righty...that I had it all wrong.

Then one evening we saw a promo for a National Geographic Special called: In The Womb: Multiples. I know now that this show was an installment of a series about the gestation and birth process of many species...dogs, whales, human...this one would cover the phenomena of multiple births. And Will was entranced...he said: "Mommy, we have to watch that show..." And, you know, I am not a science geek or anything...but I went with it. We snuggled up on my bed that next night and learned all about the biology and process and mechanics and all that....and then, about halfway through the show the narrator begins to touch on the concept of the "vanishing twin." And they go on to explain that with the development of ultrasound technology, scientists have learned that many pregnancies, as many as one in eight, begin, naturally, as a set of twins...and that at some point early on, one of the twins disappears, absorbing back into the mother, or becoming a part of the remaining twin. And most times the mother never knows that this happened...that she was carrying two...but in fact, her baby is a mirror image of another. And then....

...the narrator shared the widely-held theory that left-handed people are the surviving siblings of a vanishing twin. I was speechless...and for the first time ever, so was Will...

I tuned out right then...I didn't need any further proof -- I was buying this theory without question. It all seemed right to me...you know, it just made sense. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt that it explained everything about my life with Will.... The pregnancy was undoubtedly a strange one...could there actually have been two babies? Could he have been sharing that space for a while, even just for a few weeks? But what was really making me pause and wonder and believe, was simply who Will is...this little thing with this oversized personality. Could it be that he had absorbed his twin, thus bringing with him a double dose of the qualities that make him such a force -- an extra share of emotion and inquisitiveness and loyalty and conviction and possessiveness. And then there was the introspection...and his undeniable connection with and curiosity about his spiritual side...maybe he felt the presence of his vanishing twin...maybe just a bit.

Frankly...I have no doubt...

So, as I said, this weekend marks the six birthday of my true love and greatest fan...together we

will splash in the waves....hit the boardwalk for some zeppoles...and we'll ride the ferris wheel, even though I am petrified of them...and we'll listen to the crickets and tree frogs as the salt air bathes our summery skin...I will give him a Lego building set, preparing him for the future...and we'll eat escargots...And, of course, he will blow out the candles on the chocolate cake with vanilla icing and colored sprinkles that I make for him every year...And he will grow another year older and he will grow wiser and ask more questions and try new things and ponder the mysteries of life...and as he always has been, he will continue to be double the fun...

Much love to all my Babies...

xoxo...Suz

Photos 1 & 2: Summer fun...in many forms...

Photos 3 through 12: Various moments with my sweet little darling...

PS Ok, Ok, Ok...next time...I promise, lots of naughtiness and debauchery...have to counteract all this family friendly stuff...

PPS Happy Birthday, to you too, Cath....our Lioness...finally 29!