When you were born, the skin on your head was stretched so tightly, you couldn’t close your eyes. We had to put special drops in for a few months to make sure your eyes wouldn’t dry out. Those first months, some how God kept me from worrying about the future. Despite the fact that we literally had to turn your head for you as you slept because it was so heavy, despite the fact that your MRI’s showed very, very little brain tissue, despite the fact that everywhere we went we were greeted with stares. Not “look at that new baby” stares, but stares of shock and then pity. We were instructed to stay home with you as much as we could those first months. We did. Staying in our own little world kept me from comparing you to others and worrying about what sort of life you would have.
As you got a little older, the worry crept in. I started to worry that you might not be able to have a full life. Then things started to happen… you laughed. You sat up. You crawled. You started talking. And while you are not yet walking, I know it is just around the corner.
The best day of my life was the first day I heard your laugh. I was not sure I would ever get to hear you laugh. When I heard that first chuckle, I was in disbelief. It felt like sparks were rushing to my limbs. That was when I knew everything would be OK.
Now you are 2. I couldn’t be more proud of my son. My little soldier. My miracle.
Happy Birthday, Miles.
Miles’ birthday was January 3rd 🙂