Happy Birthday, Little Guy!

Love at first sight. 

No matter how cliche it may be, that is the
only way I know to describe the way I felt when my very own baby son
was placed in my arms for the first time.  At that moment, my life was dramatically
changed forever, never to be the same again.

I didn’t know at that moment what havoc my speedy labor and delivery
had wrought on my body, that later that day I would be wheeled into
surgery for repairs, and that I would suffer for weeks from an
incompetent doctor.  The details are too gruesome to repeat, and I
don’t want to focus on that.

What I remember most are the hours I spent holding and cuddling my
new baby boy, falling in love over and over again.  Because of the
complications I experienced, I spent the first five weeks of his life
on the couch or in bed.  Which sounds miserable, but it truly was
not.  Because I got to hold my baby all day long, which was the only
thing in the world I wanted to do.  We bonded.  And fell deeper in love
every day.  By the time I was back on my feet, we were ready to meet
the world.  Together.

What can I say about this child?

He was a complacent, happy baby.  He would entertain himself for
hours on end, even from infanthood.  He wasn’t in a hurry to do
anything.  He had the most adorable little "army crawl" where he would
pull himself around with his arms and drag his body.  He hit most of
his milestones on the later side, not walking until he was 18 months

From a very early age, he was inquisitive and persistent, always interested in how things work.  He is a delight — eager to please, affectionate, loving, and sensitive.  He is the kid the other parents want their kids to play with and the
one babysitters delight to watch. 

He’s the firstborn, the responsible
one, the one who helps me out when I need a chore done or a sibling
occupied.  He’s the one that has had to grow up the quickest, the one
we expect the most out of, the one that is the most likely to wind up
in counseling as Hubby and I experiment on him and try to figure out
this complex, wonderful thing called parenting. 

loves sports, particularly baseball.  He will spend hours outside
throwing a ball at the house and catching it.  He knows more stats than
the average adult baseball fan.  At five years old, he was sitting
through an entire major league baseball game with his dad and following
every play.

He’s eight years old today, and I can hardly believe it.   My heart
aches to think of all the delightful stages that are now in the past,
never to be seen again.  Yet I eagerly anticipate the years to come
with all the stages, good and bad, yet to be.  And I pray for God’s
grace as we strive to raise a kind, compassionate, godly young man.

Happy Birthday, Little Guy!!!

Originally posted 11/14/06