I can’t believe a year has passed since the first time I held my son.
It’s been quite a year — there was the joy of seeing Noah born, the disappointment of having him whisked away to the NICU. My wife and I waited a horrifying, terrible six days until we were finally able to take our little guy home.
And when we got there, we had no idea what to do with him. He didn’t want to eat. He was constipated (I’m sure he’ll appreciate reading this someday far in the future), and breast-feeding just wasn’t working out. On top of all of that, he cried. And cried. And cried. For the first eight weeks of his life, Misty and I seriously questioned whether we were cut out to be parents.
We were all miserable — especially Noah.
But things got better. He began sleeping all night. While we still don’t have the luxury of sleeping in, the boy no longer wakes us every two to three hours. He eats. He drinks. He pees. He poops — all the things that a baby is supposed to do.
Of course, I guess we can’t call him a baby anymore. Even though he’s been walking since he was 10 months old, Noah is now officially a toddler. It’s been a year of remarkable firsts for the boy: first smile, first kiss, first word (for the record, it was Dad-da), first tottering steps.
It’s been an incredible journey, watching the little guy grow over the last year. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even the hard, miserable, angry parts of the past year have helped shape my family into what it is today.
I’m so thankful for the past year, and so looking forward to the next step in this adventure of my son’s life.
Happy birthday, Noah. I love you.