Two years ago today we arrived at the hospital at 6am. We hadn’t really slept, the excitement was almost too much, knowing that you would soon be here.
Two years ago today we waited and waited for your arrival. The doctor kept saying “soon”. It seemed like forever, but it really wasn’t.
Two years ago today they said something was wrong. They rushed to deliver you and my heart sank as the doctor looked around at the lack of staff and yelled out “help!”
Two years ago today they tried to make you breathe, for a few helpless moments we watched them work on you.
And finally we heard a tiny little cry.
Now today as I look at you, I marvel at everything you do.
Except spitting your food at me. That’s not too marvelous. But everything else…love it!
Your constant smile, your big bright eyes that look out at the world with wonderment, your index finger that boops me on the nose. I love it all.
Two years ago today I couldn’t wait to see you, and today I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next.
I love you, buddy.
Happy birthday, Little Man!