My hero is my son.
My baby will be ONE is just two and a half weeks. Where has the time gone? Isaac's first year was filled with so many things that weren't typical. Scary things. But he is a miracle baby and he jumped every hurdle and pressed on. There is such a lesson in this little one. He shows more grace and strength than most adults I know. He's been through more pain and suffering and hospitalization than most adults will ever endure in their life time. However, he never fussed and cried about it. He held his head high and pressed forward, usually with a grin and a sparkle in his eye. Seriously, he never had a fit in the hospital and has only had just a handful at home.
Last week he was sick, his first cold, he still laughed and carried on, the happiest little guy. Not only was he sick, he was cutting teeth, not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR. You would have never known. We found them after they were already in. Poor guy had to have been in pain. But pain is nothing new to him.
In other development...we are pulling up, thinking about walking, have six teeth, no longer eat baby food but eat table food and feed ourself. We talk about Amma, Dada, Nannie, and now Ki Ca (Kitty Cat).
As we get so very close to Isaac's first year, I may be slowly beginning to heal. As my son grows and takes off our NICU experience becomes farther away. I will never forget it, it is a part of me. It changed me permanently. It made me grow up. But its no longer quiet as painful as it used to be. I still want to cry when I see pictures of families in the hospital taking the pictures of everyone holding the new baby while mama sits in the bed, relaxing, and glowing with pride. I still feel cheated. I will never forget how alone and quiet my hospital room was right after giving birth...no visitors, just the phone calls where I had to explain "what happened." Then leaving the hospital empty handed only to start the longest two months of my life. No rest and recovery, just the highway and strangers caring for a baby I had trouble believing was mine.
Now I have no trouble seeing him as "mine." When he calls for Amma and his face lights up...yes, its usually because I have the "milkies" and he wants them, but hey, he doesnt act like that to any "milkies" but mine! When I pick him up and the end of the day and he reaches for me and rudly turns away from anyone else...thats my baby. My sweet little boy. My own personal miracle. My gift from God. My hero....
Friday, July 10, 2009
My hero is my son.
Posted by Erin at 1:49 PM