Two years old. It's hard to wrap my head around. Not only has this:
Turned into this:
But....
I am also now the mother of two.
Two perfect, precious, amazing little boys.
My lucky charm arrived, quite fittingly, on St. Patrick's Day. He was 8 lbs 7 oz, 21 inches long. He had a tight nuchal cord at birth and spent three days in the NICU, but he's fine.
More than fine. He's perfect.
Those of you who have followed our journey know how much I doubted this would ever be our reality. Our story is a "worst case scenario" - over a decade of TTC, 4 failed IVF's, 3 losses, and THEN. Our final shot, our last chance, gave us our darling BB. And he's my world, y'all. He is smart and affectionate and curious and gentle. He makes my face hurt from smiling. He was worth every single tear, every shot, every invasive procedure and heartbreaking setback.
And now he has a brother. A hopeful someday best friend, a confidant, a supporter. And I have the great pleasure of watching them grow, of loving them until I feel like my insides will explode from happiness. There is literally joy bubbling up from inside of me at numerous points in the day. Sometimes I feel like I can't contain it, and I marvel at the changes the last three years have brought.
After everything we've been through, they are here.
They are real.
And they are mine.
