What a year it has been. We’ve been calling our little boy Wally for over a year now, and his name falls so trippingly off the tongue, I can’t imagine life without him. (I still believe that for us, choosing to name Walter while I was pregnant has been one of our best decisions – that post can be found here).
A new home. A new baby. A new Church. A new job. New friends. New times apart. New moments together. One open heart surgery down, more to go. Countless doctors appointments….and now we have an ever precocious ever growing boy to show for it all.
I’m a huge fan of “Big Bang Theory”, and if time travel exited in my lifetime, I would surely head right back to the moment we got home after my Level II ultrasound with the perinatologist on May 30th , 2014. In reality, it looked something like this:
But since I did not receive a visit from my future self, nor was I haunted by three spirits when the clock stuck one, there’s a lot I wish my current self could have told myself one year ago.
Cry now. Because a year from now, you’ll laugh and smile at Walter so much, there won’t be time for tears.
You’ll get to hold him for five precious seconds before they whisk him away to the NICU after he’s born, and he’ll fall asleep in your arms as you sing to him as you carry him into his first open-heart surgery.
There will be nights where you won’t sleep because he’s an active little fellow, and just sometimes playtime is best at 2 am. You won’t mind. (Nap later – he tires eventually).
You’ll feed him every two hours for the first two months of his life, and then watch him not eat for two and a half weeks. He doesn’t cry as long as you gently move his many med lines, adjust his oxygen, and reset his monitors so you can hold him. You’ll get out of the hospital soon enough.
His eyes twinkle when you sing the same songs to him that your mom sang to you. I guess moms are special like that.
His legs and arms won’t stop moving, and then, he crawls. You’ll have to introduce a playpen sooner than you thought. He still manages to get bumps and bruises. But they don’t seem to phase him: because at 8 months, he’s counting down the days until he can run. He shouts at the toddlers to play with him. They do.
He has a favorite toy (dumbo), says “dada”, pulls up, walks along furniture, shouts, babbles, sways to the music, fights sleep, gobbles up avocado, has a stubborn will, and an absolute vibrant love for life.
So cry now. There won’t be need for tears later. You’re not out of the woods yet, but the trees here do reach up to the light.”