April 1st


This time last year Michelle and I would be at the hospital. Earlier in the day, while we were both sitting at our computers, her water would break and it’d be go time. It wasn’t an easy labor for her, involuntary pushing she couldn’t stop, twenty-four hours of labor, four hours of active pushing. We’d fight off (almost literally) one doctor, have a number of scares, but, in the end, we’d have him. As it was April first, my friends didn’t believe me until I started posting pics of labor and delivery to Facebook. Once they realized it wasn’t an elaborate jokes the well-wishes started rolling in.

The past year hasn’t been easy. I know Michelle and I have had several “come to Jesus” moments, with ourselves and each other. Priorities have had to be re-aligned, more responsibilities picked up and shared (or endured on our own). Tolerance, patience, and honesty have all had to be built and worked on constantly. A friend of mine asked, a month or two after Connor was born, what being a parent was like; my response was it was an experiment to see how much you could do on how little sleep in as little time as you could get. There have been some truly scary moments in this past year, the fact that he wasn’t immediately breathing when he was born, my own new-parent fears, the several days he spent in the hospital in January. To say that he hasn’t had an impact on Michelle and I would be a lie. The crying, long nights, diapers, myconium (*shudder*), getting peed on, getting vomited on, having to cancel plans, having to leave early, apologies to people who I would love to see but can’t. No, it has not been easy.

But this past year has been good. It has been fascinating watching him grow and learn, from figuring out how to move his body (and actively experimenting and building his fine motor skills right in front of my eyes) to learning how to crawl, communicate and walk. My mornings are instantly better when he gives me the wide smile every morning that shows just how incredibly happy he is to see me, or when he hears my voice when I go to pick him up from day care and he immediately crawls over to me. I love to watch him play and seeing him with his mother fills my heart with so much love I can’t stand it sometimes. I know that I have it good, that Michelle and I rolled really well on the “what baby are you going to get” table. He’s my son, and I love him.

This past year has been a mix, sometimes a wild ride, sometimes a death-march slog through time, but in all of it I’m happy to have my son. He’s incredible.

Happy first birthday, Connor. I love you.

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