It was a quick entrance for the little guy who weighed just 5 lbs. 14 oz.
It had been a high risk pregnancy, most of which was spent on bed rest. Only three years before, after Jack's birth, I had emergency surgery to repair a ruptured uterine artery from an arterio-venous malformation. The surgery left me with no blood supply to the right side of my uterus. It was traumatic and devastating. I was told I wouldn't be able to have more children.
Boy were they wrong.
There are only a handful of documented pregnancies after this procedure, so we walked on eggshells. Even the doctors couldn't tell me what to expect. There was no way of knowing how he would be affected. We could only wait - and wait, and hope that somehow this pregnancy would be okay.
Sometimes I call him my miracle.
He's here for a reason.
He's defied a lot of odds, this boy, with a few hurdles along the way.
And that's why he's so amazing. He fights, he persists, and he proved the medical world wrong.
(Which is always kind of cool!)
And here we are, four years later. I remember how overwhelmed I felt that day. Full of worry and uncertainty about his health. Now I look at my sweet boy, revel in his accomplishments, and wish I never had that fear or doubt.
My Oliver, you are a bright, imaginative, caring, thoughtful boy. You have taught me to value life, to expect the unexpected (!), and to love unconditionally, always.