12 months. A whole year old. I swear just yesterday we were in the hospital and they were putting IVs in your poor little baby head and telling us all of the things that were wrong. When I could finally get to NICU to hold you, the nurse told me you’d never be able to latch properly, so forget breastfeeding. You were too little, you were too sleepy, nursing was too hard for you…ahhhh my heart was broken. I could barely hold you with all of the wires and tubes and I had no idea what was in store for you…for us.
Somehow we’ve made it these twelve months. You’ve grown and changed and become this precious, precious little thing. You’re still nursing all the time…probably too much, but it’s your very favorite, so I try not to mind. You do this weird scoot, crawl, one-footed step thing all over the place. You’re super fast. You stand, but don’t walk yet. That’s ok. You will soon enough.
You say dada, doggie, bye-bye, and RyRy…not mama. You like food but sometimes you’re too busy to want to eat. You drink water like it’s going out of style. You’ve never had juice, but it’s entirely possibe you like chocolate milkshakes from Chick-fil-A. You still don’t like the car, but the Wiggles and Bear in the Big Blue House are making it a little better. You put everything in your mouth…grass, rocks, lightning bugs, dog food. You’re our first baby to do that, so we’re learning to watch a bit more carefully. You still don’t sleep. I don’t know why.
I remember that the early months were a blur and I wish I remembered more. But they were so, so hard. Many days I wondered if we’d make it through, but somehow we pulled it together and now we’re here. We’re still not back to normal. I’m not sure there’s even such a thing anymore. We’re a new normal. There are so many things I feel like I need to change or do or not do, but we’re still just doing this baby thing one day at a time. I’m trying to remember to not compare and to know that other mamas probably aren’t as perfect as they seem. As long as we’re together, all happy and loved, I think we’re doing ok. Maybe even better than ok.
Happy one year, sweet boy. You’ve reminded us just how special life is.