Pax Henry Hawk Pallister

I guess cliches are cliches are cliches because the are true, otherwise people wouldn't keep saying them over and over again. My poor third child, my only son, beloved Pax.

You have a first child, she gets her own blog. You have a second child, you change the name of the blog to include her too. You have a third child - under the age of 5 and the third gets a mid-post mention and when he's 10 months old you suddenly realize he has never had a post dedicated entirely to himself. Poor guy. (Then, on the eve of his first birthday, you realize that the blog post you started 2 months ago about him is still unfinished. Yikes.)

Pax. Paxy Paxy Puchu. The wacky peanut. The Dude. The buddy. Paxeroni and Cheese. Six Pax. Pax Man. The Peace Hawk.

When I think about Pax I get all dreamy. He is a dreamy dreamy dream boat of a baby. Ask anyone that knows him, he makes people swoon. Happy happy happy.

Let me start at the beginning. In October 2008 Wade and I went on a cruise. Now, we had really high hopes for this cruise, but unfortunately, I didn't realize exactly how badly my motion sickness had increased since having kids and I was sick as a dog almost all the time, it was truly truly awful. BUT it was fantastic to have some time alone with Wade and it was also the first time I'd had a quiet time in months and months. In fact I felt like God was chasing me down about this quiet time. When I finally listened to that nagging feeling to sit down with my journal and bible, I don't remember why I opened my bible to the Gospel of Luke, but what caught my attention was the story of John the Baptist's birth.

In the story, John's father Zechariah doesn't believe that he and his wife's advanced ages they'll be given a son, and he is struck dumb for his unbelief by the angel Gabriel. After his son is born, (Chapter 1 in verses 57-66) the family assumes he'll be named after Zechariah, but Z manages to communicate as he was divinely instructed that the baby's name is John.

And I felt in my spirit it was a story for us, about having a son. I don't know why, I just kind of knew. I also had a boy's name for years - Reading Asher Seven. And after this reading, I also knew that whoever the baby was that was coming, he wasn't Reading Asher Seven. He was somebody else. When I shared all this with Wade, he took it with his usual grain of salt, not-condescending-but-we'll-just-wait-and-see evenness that he always has - which is a lovely comforting thing now that my ego knows it for what it is, which is love.

Then in December we found out we were pregnant, and the day we found out, I went to to my journal to write it down and the last entry was the one had written on the cruise. (My focused quiet times with journal writing are not so frequent these days:) And as I re-read it, I had some goose bumps, because as I was reading it, Wade was sitting across the room from me preparing his sermon. Our church was going systematically through the gospel of Luke, and guess which verses Wade was preparing to teach on in church the very next day? Oh yes, yes it was. Luke 1: 57-66, the story of Zechariah regaining his voice and naming his son.

So, I thought we were going to have a son, and that his name would be different from the name we'd always had for a son. I wanted a name that meant "Peace" and presented Wade with a list, he immediately picked out Pax. Just like that. We liked that it sounded like a super hero's pseudonym, like Peter Parker. Pax Pallister, boy wonder. Henry is after Wade's Dad Hank and Hawk is after Wade's boyhood hero, Tony Hawk.

His birth was amazing, despite many last-minute concerns about my blood pressure and a possible induction, he wound up being born at home, in a lovely peaceful way. We're convinced that everybody is here now and that he's our last baby, and to be honest, I won't miss being pregnant, but I would love to be in labour and give birth one more time. It is just the most awesome thing I've ever done and it got easier each time for me. Pax was born in the caul, which means his water, or amniotic sac didn't break. the midwife had never seen anything like it, he came out in a little bubble, like a spaceman. She just kept saying, "Oh lucky baby! Lucky lucky baby!" It was great.

And tomorrow he is one year old. Every year seems to go by more and more quickly, this one was speedier than the rest. I am still in awe of Pax. I still am in awe that I have a son, and that he is so good-natured and funny and that he just adores us all so much. He laughs so hard at Sophia and Eleanor, no matter how many times a day they maul him.

I can't wait to see more of who he'll be. Happy Birthday son, I love you!