Today, you are one.
A year ago right now, I nursed you and I cried.
I cried at the injustice of the way you came into this world. With mourning, over those hours we couldn't get back. The things I couldn't fix.
I nursed you, with my hand cupped over that bump. Praying, blessing, regretting.
Days went by, and weeks. Not knowing what the result would be, I prayed, and I loved you.
I fell in love with your quiet nature, and I hoped.
Then, one day, it was a little better. And the next, better still. And so on, until I seemed to be the only one who knew it had been there.
Soon there were days that I didn't even cry, but none where I didn't remember.
It wasn't perfect, it wasn't ideal, that first part of your blessed little life. But it was ours.
Yours and mine.
We went through it, and got through it, together.
Now today, I nurse you, and I cry again.
I cry at God's mercy, and His plan. With joy, over His presence in our lives. For He brought us together, He gave us our story, He guides us when we are lost.
And this, I learned through you.
My dear, sweet Isaac.