St Patricks Day 2008 vs. 2009

St Patricks Day 2008

Last year was very difficult. It is still so hard to see my baby that way, intubated and tubes in and out of every part of his body. I see the scars on his chest every day when I put lotion on him, and I massage that lotion into his skin as if I were rubbing out his painful past. It is truly amazing to me what life hands you. Truly amazing how you can wallow in self doubt, doubting your strength, doubting who you are. I am at the point where I know I can pull myself out of the muck, the mud, and the self doubt. I am happy to say that I love who I am again. I am tired of being broken, I am tired of letting life's obstacles get me down....its a new day and I am here, once again, to push through the negative and find the positive on the other side. Grateful for each and every day I am here to spend time with my little family. Grateful for the experiences I have had and more than grateful that last year is behind our family. I am also thrilled that we have made lasting friendships with the Pettit's- who last year while we were next to each other in the PICU, we were all still praying for the others child. When Brytt called me this year on St Patricks Day to tell me Happy Anniversary, all I could think about was how much I loved them and their family and how we have a bond that will never break.
Happy Anniversary Pettits! Love you guys!

St Patricks Day 2009
This St Patricks Day, Thatch is a normal little boy. He loves to rub his naked belly and wear the hats that were at one time Grandpa Lou's. (That is probably where the temper wears off) He is such a joy and Ryan and I laugh at him on a daily basis. He is a born soccer player and kicks the ball around the house on a very consistent basis. He loves airplanes, and balloons, and animals, (Except for that naughty kitty!) and he loves babies. Who knew that one year later, he would be this little guy who will kick and fight and scream for a Popsicle or a balloon and laugh when he falls down? What a doll. He is learning more sign language every day. He knows how to get his point across, even if it means yelling, and he has me wrapped around his finger. In years to come, when the other boys tell me how spoiled he is, and how he gets to do "whatever he wants", I will just look at them and smile and say; "I know.... you're right.....he sure is." And with a tear in my eye remember that I am happy to have him here to spoil him. Yep, don't even feel bad about it. :)