It's a little after midnight. Officially, it's Tagg's 4th birthday. He's four. Four years old. How did that happen? My new nephew (who looks freakishly like Tagg at this age), just 2 weeks old, was here tonight and I held him thinking, how has it been four years since Tagg was this little and sleepy and fragile with the squeaks and coos and twitches?
He's like a little man now - making deals with us for everything, putting together complex and intricate Lego designs, has all of Star Wars memorized even though he's barely seen the movies, riding bikes and kicking balls, telling stories and generally letting us know that he is growing up.
I can't help but remember the day he was born. The joy, the fear, the hope, the roller coaster. We knew that he would be born sometime on the 26th and spent the day trying to distract ourselves from the finger-tapping, anxiety-ridden waiting. A little flashback seemed in order so I re-read the
blog from his birth day, and it was amazing, brought me right back to the day our son was born.
I love that Tagg is still surrounded by the same love four years later. We all love him more than the air we breathe. We love him for everything he is...big brother, dimple smile, funny Star
Wars stories, giving Sloane her Dora dolls, helping around the house,
reading, running, jumping, deal-making, joke telling. Tagg is our first
miracle. I don't know how many you get in a lifetime but between Scott,
Tagg, and Sloane I think I may be batting 3 for 3. Blessed. Blessed.
Blessed.
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| Birthday #5. |
The holidays, especially birthdays, are times when we think about the people who made these moments, this family, possible for us. More so than usual. Because you know that all of these incredible milestones, the big ones and the small. The moments, the fun, the tender, the monumental, the painful, the sweet. All of that is thanks to these beautiful, wonderful people who still love this child so much that they call him on his birthday and send lovely, thoughtful gifts and shower all of us with love. Every year at every holiday and a lot of days in between, I am uniquely reminded about how wonderful people are, that miracles do come true, and that families are built out of a deep, sacrificial, generous, unique and special kind of love, and that everyone should be as lucky as we have been. Every birthday and every day, I celebrate the gift of my son, my daughter, my whole quilted-together family, my life, and that most beautiful truth.
