It is the eve of my baby boy’s arrival day. He arrived just after midnight, so this very time last year I was watching tv and trying desperately to keep my mind off the pain I was in as the epidural wore off. Thankfully, we got that sorted out, things picked up speed, and he arrived. My precious boy.
Looking at these pictures it is hard to believe that this tiny, quiet, warm bundle was our Wild Man. His personality has bloomed so much in the past 12 months.
He is insane. Crazy, lovable, loud and adorable. Sweet and cuddly, busy and brave.
And what I am struck by, as I sit and think about all that the Lord has made him to be, is that he is his own little person. He is not just E’s little brother along for the ride on her roller coaster, although it can often feel that way. He stands alone in time with his own trail to blaze. His own path to walk.
When I dropped him off at bsf today, his teacher was thrilled to see him. Immediately ran to hug him and cuddle him and play with him. And when I went to pick him up, she was still holding him, gushing over how much she enjoys him. She doesn’t know him in the context of EBug. He gets to be the star.
And it brought to my mind his unique light and joy that fills our home. He has added so much to our family. We love his hair, his smile, his laugh, and his passion. And he does have some serious passion. Or defiance, I’m not sure. But at 12 months, we should probably just call it passion.
But alongside that is his gentle snuggly-buggly-ness. I love snuggling him before bed. He nestles that little head on my shoulder, pulls his sack to his face, and babbles his little baby sounds as I sing, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Every night the same, but it never gets old.
And I don’t think it ever could get old. Every night I thank the Lord for this child that He gave us one year ago. My warm bundle, I love you.