In your nineteen months so far on this earth you have already taught me so much. You have taught me to pray consistently for you and to seek others to pray for you when I just didn't have the strength to pray any more. You have taught me the beauty of hard work and the gift of the everyday miracles. You have reminded me that schedules and checklists, while they have a place for some things, are not what determine joy.
I love the way you light up. Most of the time you are a pretty serious little fellow. You observe. You wait. You stare people down. But when the mood is right, you crack up at something silly. Sometimes I sit and just listen to you laughing with your brother. I want to record it, but I fear missing the moment to go find the video camera. I know that your giggles won't always sound like that. So I want to clench that precious sound tight in my fist and only open it up to listen to now and then in years to come. I love watching you play with Daddy and your big brother. You want in on the rough-housing. Each day you are looking more like a little boy and less like a baby. You are starting to imitate what they do, and my heart feels like it could explode I am that happy. But that happiness also makes me fight back tears because your days are going by too quickly.
Little boy, I want to tell you that you amaze me. Over the last couple of weeks you have had many milestone moments. You pulled up into a standing position. You put in.You said your first word (besides names) - "go-guh," also known as yogurt. Each skill has been prayed for and worked for with therapy, persistence, and tears. My favorite thing about these milestones is your look when you accomplish them. With the standing you look so proud each and every time. With the putting in, you looked nonchalant, as if you were saying, "Yeah, I can do this. No big deal." Except it is a big deal. It took months, MONTHS, for you to demonstrate this task. And the talking - well, you are starting to imitate more sounds and adding a little intonation. At the dinner table or in the car, you sound so happy to be a part of the conversation. And we are so happy to have you join in.
Everything is still a mystery. I don't know what milestones you will hit in the coming weeks and months. I don't know what the next doctor visits will tell us. I know that it really doesn't matter that much. I know that the thing that really matters is that you are mine, and I love you very much.
*Linking up with the MOBSociety for "Let's hear it for the boys!"