Oh My Little Zacky,
And so it has come. Your First Birthday. A Birthday. A birthday that wasn't just a given in my mind. Something assumed. Instead it is something we approach for the milestone that it is. A marked passage of time, significant in its length. One year.
You were born one year ago today. Almost 8 weeks early. And your body was huge on the outside--enormous for your age. But, wow, those lungs of yours--they confounded the doctors for weeks.
When I see pictures like this of you, I am right back there. There in that hospital, listening to the beeping and whirling of machines, monitoring breathing. Your life that I take so for granted, even now. But back in that hospital, when they put you on a ventilator and gave you a chest tube. I did not take those breaths for granted. Maybe my perspective is different, after watching the nurses and doctors watch you and step in front of us. Wheeling in screens from around the NICU. For privacy, ours and that of the other parents, equally terrified for their own babies. Huddling with Daryn as they were saying things like "bag him" and words I'll never understand. If I stop and let myself for a moment I am right back there all over again...
But instead, there is this. A boy who loves to explore. Who has never wanted a moment of silence, even when he is sleeping. Smiley and happy. Wiggly and squirmy. You are not much of a snuggler. I mean you'll give the obligatory squeeze and pat, but the world is too big and too wide to spend much time hanging out in your mama's lap.
Um, I may have neglected to mention how loved you are. No really, I mean you are so incredibly loved. Well Loved. By so many people. And mostly by these three. Your amigos. Your comrades in arms. These three would walk through burning buildings for you. Some of them can't even let you take a nap without going in to get you because they've missed you (Emily, I'm lookin' at you here...."Mommy!!! Zacky's UP!"). And, truth be told, the way you watch them, I'm pretty sure you are equally enthralled by all of them.
I don't know what to say, Bubby. How is it possible that we made it though? How is it that my baby is one? My goodness, Sweet Cheeks, slow down on the growing up. You are it for me. My baby, and I don't want to baby you too much. I know, oh so well, that you have places to go and people to see. You have big punks to keep up with. But, my sweet one, don't race to far ahead. Let me savor your fat baby toes and your squeezy cheeks.
I adore and love you beyond words. I cannot describe it but to say, "My cup runneth over."
I love you forever, no matter what,
Mommy
"Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope; even now I announce I will restore twice as much to you"
Zechariah 9:12
