You guys, my baby boy turned one today. I really don't know how a year flew by so quickly. He went from a little teensy bundle, warm and cooing in my arms... to a big bustling charging yelling *dude* in a blink -- a heartbeat. Too fast. I'm a little bit floored. The first year is so hard and it's not as if I wish to repeat it... But there is something so bittersweet about seeing this guy grow in such leaps and bounds. Perhaps because we know, without a shadow of a doubt, that little Owen is our last.
He walks. He talks. He growls when he hears the lawnmower or loud trucks. He is very opinionated -- you better not cross him, or you'll be sorry. He loves his Daddy. And he loves songs and food.
I, for one, love watching him grow.
Here's a secret... I cried last night before I went to sleep. Not because I'm sad that he is getting older -- but because John and I were reflecting on his birth and I was reminded just how very blessed we are to have him here. I don't want to delve deep into his birth story, because unlike his sisters' arrival stories, his is not a pleasant one... Suffice it to say, our little guy had a rough entry in to the world. For some moments there, we were not sure we were going to be able to keep him. It could have gone either way. But he stayed, and I have never ever been so grateful for anything in my life.
Each day is a gift. Each year a treasure I will never stop being thankful for. Little Owen. My boy... My joy. I'm so happy you're one.
(now sleep through the night, you stinker)
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