My baby turned four last week. I was searching through my photos from the last four years to select a few for this post and then I became lost.
It seems only minutes ago that he was pulled out of my womb.
He would have liked to stay in longer, and at 7lbs, he was the biggest preemie in the NICU. Every time he forgot to breath, he earned himself few more days.
first two weeks were all about racing to the hospital to feed him, then
pump to leave the nurses with a few extra bottles, and then race home
to grab some sleep, or drop Chloe off at school, or pick her up, or try
to eat, and race back before the nurses give him a bottle. I'd arrive,
wash my hands, sit down as the nurses unhooked whatever he was hooked up
to that day. Sigh, relax, latch on, let down. Look at that soft, downy face. It made it all worth it.
He is adored by his big sister from the very beginning. He returns her adoration completely.
Look at those amazing cheeks.
And those curls.
At first Chloe was a teensie bit disappointed that he wasn't a girl, till she realized it was just as much fun dressing up a little brother.
That look. He must be up to something.
Jasper is almost always on the move. Do you remember when the last time you had this much fun stomping in a puddle?
He keeps asking why we can't have a trampoline in our house. (Um, because I don't think the Chicago Park District will let us keep it on their lawn.)
He's lost the curls. Once cut, they never grew back.
He hasn't lost his smile.
Or his curiosity. Look at that tongue, always out when he's concentrating.
Happy birthday, my big baby boy. Mama loves you.