A year ago today, I was 9 months pregnant, worried, and ready to meet my baby boy. Due to a difficult pregnancy and ever-increasing pain as the baby dropped and pushed on a nerve in my hurt back, we went to the hospital and Little Bear was born five hours later. From the first, we knew that he was a tough little guy and a fighter. I nicknamed him Little Bear in the hospital, and blogged about it soon after. Here’s that post, and his first baby picture. I can’t believe he was ever so small.
And now, my baby is one year old. He’s cruising and waving and clapping and playing purposefully, and just generally charming us all. We celebrated his birthday today with songs, gifts, and a special day of just being together as a family. He got perfect presents: blocks, balls, books, the littlest bowling set ever (apparently I shopped in the “b” section at Target), and matchbox cars to share with big brother. We’ll have cake when the grandparents come over to celebrate later this week (assuming I can beg, borrow, or steal a recipe for a wheat-free, dairy-free, soy-free cake).
But today, we are grateful for Little Bear’s safe arrival and all the joy that he has brought to our house this year. We are eagerly anticipating all the changes that are just around the corner, and I have yet another reason to look forward to next week’s surgery:
- Because I want to be here for my baby. For his second birthday, his third, and his twenty-third.