A Beginning

It was just over three years and one month ago that you were born. You were gray, thin, frail, and not breathing on your own. A brief squeak of a cry was all we would hear from you for weeks since that's all your little voice box could muster with such limited air passing over it. An entire team was dedicated to your care the second you came into this world surrounded you with activity until your condition was stable enough to let machines take over. Your first moments were chaotic ones.


Today, to look at and interact with you, it is incredible to even think that you are the same individual whose little lungs were so underdeveloped in your first few weeks of life that you needed a special ventilator that gave tiny little puffs of air so as not to over-inflate and tax your tiny respiratory system. I distinctly remember how hopeful the medical staff was that you would stay inside Mommy's tummy for as long as possible because "It's by far the best place for him to grow and develop." Even with the crazy expense and time spent in research hospitals go through in order to provide the best care and equipment possible, nothing could even touch the perfection of God's creation.

And so you arrived and turned our world upside down. But maybe it wasn't right side up to begin with. I couldn't imagine life without you, son. In this blog, I'm going to record my letters to you, and maybe one day you will be able to read and look back at my memories of those first few frightful days and the joy and growth that has followed and understand just what a miracle of creation you are.