Happy Birthday, B.B.!

I couldn't let today end (even though I'm exhausted in the most wonderful of ways) without stopping by and sharing my thoughts on this, the anniversary of the day I finally crossed that invisible, yet gaping, chasm that divides all Women of a Certain Age.

This year has absolutely flown by. Comparatively speaking, we spent 12 years trying to bring B.B. to life...so, it's no wonder that just one year seems like a blip on the radar. And yet - that one year has encompassed so much. First smiles, first real tears. The way he grabs my hand and won't let go. The comfort he gets from pulling my hair as we lie in the dark, drifting off to sleep. Endless heaps of diapers and bottles and snuggles and baths. The never-ending neediness that only I can fulfill. 

This year has been a whirl of tiny-yet-enormous moments; of both wonderment and fear, heartache and joy. It's a thousand little life-changers, wrapped up in the mundane. It's both beautiful and sad, in a way that only those who are parenting after infertility can understand. 

Baby Boy is one today. He has grown into a cruising, grinning, giggling, exploring, reaching, climbing, smiling, curious little boy. He still loves to snuggle, and can melt my heart with a single word (which is good, because he only has three). He is seriously the happiest child I know - except when he's not. He's inherited his mother's ability to feel emotions intensely, it would seem. He's smart and kind and shares everything. He is Himself, and I've got the great pleasure of watching who that is unfold in front of me each and every day. 

The first year has been so much more than I ever anticipated. More exhausting, more wonderful, more fulfilling, and more eye-opening than I could have possibly imagined. I have learned so much about myself - some things that I'm proud of and others that definitely Need Improvement. I've made mistakes. I've spent many nights crying and worrying and begging Mo to figure out how in the world to Make Him Sleep. I've also spent evenings on the floor in a heap, surrounded by love and completely spent from all the giggles. 

No one has ever loved me the way that B.B. does. The bond between mother and son is like nothing I've ever experienced before. I feel the weight and responsibility that comes with teaching him to be a kind, patient, and hard-working man. I also feel the pride and the joy that comes with seeing him solve the mysteries of the world around him. 

To say that I love him, today, seems insufficient. It makes me wish I believed in Something More, as our connection feels so deeply rooted that it could not possibly be just one year in the making. 

One year. 

I feel so much - so intensely - that it cannot possibly be contain within a single blog post. And it makes me wonder: did infertility do this? Is there, possibly, something to be gained from the treacherous and winding road that brought us here? 

B.B. doesn't know, yet, about our journey. He has no idea what we endured, but, I'd like to think he knows how much he was wanted, and how much he is adored. He cannot read these words, but I hope he feels the love behind them. 

Happy birthday, my love, my light. I love you more than words can say.