A year ago I wrote myself a letter. It was my 33rd birthday, one day after the transfer of two gorgeous hatching blasts. I wondered what the year would bring.
I sit here today dazed. A year already? There were so many times this past year I swore time could not possibly go any slower.
And so many times now that I wish it would slow down just a little. He has changed so much in such a short time. I want to cherish every little moment.
I asked myself a few questions last year, and it was interesting to go back and read this letter. I thought I remembered what I wrote, but I really only remembered a couple of small details.
Some of the questions have obvious answers, some do not. I am still at the same job...which may change soon. I hope it changes soon. 33 was overall better than 32; it certainly has had it's amazing moments.
Am I taking care of myself? Oh, boy. I'm trying. In a way, yes, as we have let ourselves be run over by people for the last time (I hope). Our house is our own. I think that is a step in the right direction. Am I doing something that makes me feel good about myself? Well, caring for my son does that. I need to start back with more photography or crocheting or something, though.
But overall, and this is the most important thing, I am happy. That's the part that worried me the most. Yes, I am stressed. Yes, I worry all the time. But I am happy.
There is still some work to be done. Changes to be made. And more journeys to take. But I sit here a year later, hardly daring to believe that as I was writing that letter a year ago, our little Peanut was snuggling into my womb.
A year ago, Peanut looked like this:
Now he looks like this:
What an amazing year. Happy 34 to me.