One whole year around the sun with you, sweet boy! Today you ate your first cookie and got vanilla yogurt instead of plain yogurt. Your family sure knows how to party!😅
I remember when everyone left us alone, just an hour after your birth—no alarms, no nurses running in and out, no fear of imminent disaster. I was shocked that these qualified people thought I knew what I was doing but in reality I had no idea. How many wet diapers? Should I let you sleep? Is spitting up okay? I must have called my nurse in half a dozen times and I think at one point she said to me “isn’t this your second?” But, oh Winston, you were all of my firsts. First time breastfeeding without fear, first time recovering at home with you snuggled on my chest, first time planning a Baptism, first time seeing the pediatrician and hearing words like “wow! He looks great, good job!”. First time going to sleep without fear of the morning. The first time I was only mom. Not advocate, home-nurse, and “kidney-mom”—just mom.
For a second I felt normal, but soon realized that our identity as a special needs family did not change. This past year you were shuffled to and from doctors, tests, and two major surgeries for your brother. While I am sad that God gave this cross to our family, I am not sorry for it. I have seen you respond in love and concern for your brother in ways I never thought possible for such a little baby. And please know your hilarity was not lost on your father and me during those long, long hours in the surgical waiting room.
You have brought unfathomable joy to our family. I am grateful that we said “sure, why not!” to another baby so soon. (And yes, nosy reader, he was planned). God knew our hearts needed you—to love, to cherish, to heal.
Year two will bring two major moves, a big promotion for daddy and God willing, a whole lot more.
No matter how big and lean you get, you’ll always be our chunky bear.
Mama (& Dadada)