My baby, today he is two.

My first image of him.
I still remember laying in recovery, clutching onto this little polariod and being so so scared, wondering if I will get to hold him, get to feel his skin against mine, wondering if he would be ok. No one told me anything except he was in NICU and no I had to stay here for a while before I could go see him. 'where is everyone' i had asked ' where is my baby?''. 'Your husband and mother have left, your baby is in intensive care'.

But, I'm glad I was asleep with tubes stuffed down my own throat when they finally struggled to get him out of me. And thankful (oh so thankful) I wasn't awake to panic while they worked to resuscitate him, or while they worried over his agpar levels. While they shoved tubes down his tiny throat, and hooked him up to machines in the incubator.

But nothing I am more thankful for is him. And what he has done to me. How he made us a family and how I have been privileged to watch him grow, and learn and throw massive tantrums and put on The Cute.

Oh my baby, I'm so thankful for you.