These posts are always weird. I mean, on one hand, the whole purpose of this blog is to facilitate people who want to follow the life and times of a modern medical marvel, with the medical marvel part being pretty front and center. And one of my favorite bloggers says that in order to be a good writer, you have to bleed. But at the same time, I’m not a sad guy. Plus, I hate whiners. And people who do the very things that they claim to hate. A lot of times, when I’m writing these posts, I feel like I’m whining. “Woe is me, my baby has a heart defect.” I mean seriously, who wants to read that? On the other hand, I’m not sure I can write a “first year of life” update without it.
366 days ago, Christy gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Then I followed the doctors as they took him out to the hallway, put him on a warming bed, and stuck an IV in him. It was a strange swirl of emotions - complete awe that this little person was my son, complete terror that he might die. If on that afternoon, someone had showed me the pictures and videos that we’ve taken over the last year, I think I would have called them a liar. Then they would have said, “are you serious? That kid could be your clone.” I would have responded, “maybe it’s my sister’s baby, the Vicknair genes are pretty strong.” They would have replied, “Yes, but your sister’s baby will be half mexican. Does that baby look mexican to you?” To which I’d have said, “Touche.”
3 days later, there was heart surgery. Then recovery. Then lots of home care. Then another surgery. Then another recovery. On the plus side, though, we were home by Christmas. And through it all, David has been the awesomest baby that any parent could ever hope for. Seriously, I think God gave him the heart defect because he is otherwise perfect. The existence of perfect people isn’t allowed, so he had to throw in something to counterbalance how awesome David would turn out to be. He’s well behaved, he’s smart, and he constantly makes me laugh. All in all, totally worth it.
Today, we have a near-toddler on our hands. (As an aside, I think we can all agree that a child is a baby until he actually toddles. So, until he learns to walk, David is a baby, not a toddler.) He turbo crawls everywhere, he knows baby signs, he loves food, he loves women, and he’s just generally about the smartest and funnest baby that I can conceive of. The idea that he can get any better baffles me, but it seems to happen every day. And here’s hoping we have a lot more days.
Happy Birthday, David.
366 days ago, Christy gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Then I followed the doctors as they took him out to the hallway, put him on a warming bed, and stuck an IV in him. It was a strange swirl of emotions - complete awe that this little person was my son, complete terror that he might die. If on that afternoon, someone had showed me the pictures and videos that we’ve taken over the last year, I think I would have called them a liar. Then they would have said, “are you serious? That kid could be your clone.” I would have responded, “maybe it’s my sister’s baby, the Vicknair genes are pretty strong.” They would have replied, “Yes, but your sister’s baby will be half mexican. Does that baby look mexican to you?” To which I’d have said, “Touche.” |  |
Paul as a baby | David at 4 weeks old |
3 days later, there was heart surgery. Then recovery. Then lots of home care. Then another surgery. Then another recovery. On the plus side, though, we were home by Christmas. And through it all, David has been the awesomest baby that any parent could ever hope for. Seriously, I think God gave him the heart defect because he is otherwise perfect. The existence of perfect people isn’t allowed, so he had to throw in something to counterbalance how awesome David would turn out to be. He’s well behaved, he’s smart, and he constantly makes me laugh. All in all, totally worth it.
Today, we have a near-toddler on our hands. (As an aside, I think we can all agree that a child is a baby until he actually toddles. So, until he learns to walk, David is a baby, not a toddler.) He turbo crawls everywhere, he knows baby signs, he loves food, he loves women, and he’s just generally about the smartest and funnest baby that I can conceive of. The idea that he can get any better baffles me, but it seems to happen every day. And here’s hoping we have a lot more days.
Happy Birthday, David.
Baby Benny, as we call him until named, will have some Mexican, not near half and that gene pool is fair with green eyes. That baby could yet be you sister's. I guess we'll all find out soon enough. - aunt on the other side of the family
ReplyDeleteI will be disappointed if it's not at least enough mexican to get him some minority status.
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