It seems like just yesterday I was making my way through a pregnancy filled with partial bed rest and blood pressure problems. Then that magical day came and Midge was born. A month early, he was unable to breathe on his own. The doctors told us his lungs were "sticky" on the inside and he didn't have the strength to push them open on his own.
One of the most difficult things I've ever done was leaving my tiny baby in the hospital when I went home. The NICU nurses were amazing and they helped us figure out how to manage breastfeeding him while taking care of three other young children at home, 45 minutes away from the hospital. We saw other parents struggling with even tinier, sicker babies. We saw twins that would have easily fit in the palm of my hand. That perspective helped me handle my grief at having to leave him alone in that big scary hospital.
On the night we left him for the first time, I cried so hard I could barely see to walk out of the hospital. Bryant held my hand and pointed to the sky. The moon was nearly full and it glowed, a brilliant reddish orange. We agreed right then that a moon like that was special. A special moon for our special boy.
Today, that special boy turns 7 years old and we were right all those years ago - he is special. He's sweet and loving and very opinionated when it comes to fashion. He wears mismatched socks on a regular basis (yesterday it was one black ankle sock with one knee high white, red and green glittery striped sock) and prefers to wear button down shirts and ties with jeans. He sleeps with a blue teddy bear named Buford (AKA Buffy) on a bed with orange sheets.
Happy birthday, my sweet little boy! We love you!
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