One year ago today I was in the hospital and Junior was about 5 hours old. I had no idea the journey we would be on for the next three months and that I would experience some of the hardest parenting moments of my life: a visit to the ER, numerous visits to lactation consultants and triple feeding all day and night so he would finally gain weight and kick the jaundice out of his system. 

But here we are a year later. At a year, he’s wearing 18 month clothes and crawling so much and so fast I fear those delicious baby-fat thighs will disappear. 

My baby will always be my baby, just as Future President will always be my baby. But the muscle memory has faded and I can’t even remember what 6lbs 2oz feels like; instead I have 25lbs to carry and snuggle. He’s been waking up at 11 and again between 3 and 4 every night and I don’t mind because he’s my last baby and these nighttime snuggles are so precious. 

Happy birthday, Junior. We love you. 


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