Five nights ago I picked up my son right before I went to bed. I've done it before, picked him up, that is.
I used to bring him out to the couch and sit with him, all snuggly and warm, just sleeping on my chest. Bliss.
I can't bring him to the couch anymore since he doesn't stay asleep.
He sits up.
He looks around.
He looks at me.
He looks around again.
And then he smiles and buries his head in his blanket on my chest.
Back to five nights ago.
So I pick him up and sway back and forth.
I kiss his forehead. I kiss his nose.
Sometimes he squirms. Sometimes he snores.
This night, he snored.
Me? I cried.
I'm about to have a 1 year old. I promised I wouldn't "tell the story of his birth" when he turned 1. Although, I probably will, in some way or another. Maybe I'll revise my promise to say that I won't do it each year.
Anyways, yeah, I cried.
He's my baby. We've come so far.
Through tears, screaming, sleepless nights, feeding struggles. Days and weeks of what felt like torture.
All the way to smiles. Giggles. Laughs. Belly laughs. Growing into a chunky monkey. Finally crawling. Walking and almost running!
The tough times. The joyous times.
His birth. And now his birthday.
I wouldn't trade any of it for anything. And yes, I will admit, the sleepless nights, I know they happened, I could search out my written reminders, but the joy we live through Liam, far outweighs those sleepless nights.
That's not to say that we're ready again. Nope...
But we are ready to celebrate!!
Happy *almost* first birthday to our little guy.
