Has it been that long?

His entry into the world was a little on the rough side. He hung around for 16-and-a-half hours of labor. When the usual route didn't work out for him, the Docs performed a crash c-section and fetched him. His head was slightly elongated when he came out, which the Docs attributed to his getting beaten around inside before they fetched him. To break the tension, they joked that we had a conehead.

He was small: 6 pounds, 5 ounces. And in the ensuing days he lost more weight, had trouble breathing and spent time in the NICU in an oxygen tent. We didn't get much sleep as we hovered over his little form under the harsh lights. We sang to him, spoke to him, and let him know we couldn't wait to bring him home.

Which we did after a few frightening days. When we finally left the hospital, I drove like it was my first time in the car: scared. I kept the hazards on, and refused to get onto the highway because I was so nervous with him in the car. Debbie kept her hand over his face to make sure he was still breathing.

He's obviously grown in a lot of ways since his first few days on this planet, and every milestone he's experienced since has represented yet another in a long series of firsts for our family.

He turned 11 today. No longer a little boy, stretching just a little harder than we'd like into his teen years. We wish time didn't go so fast. We wish it would slow down just long enough for us to savor each moment before it races off in that same direction: forward.

I feel old, yet I can't imagine life without him. And as he matures, I love seeing how his insight grows, too. He's a good soul, just like his Mom.

His arrival made us parents. I wish I could put into words what it's like to watch him figure out how to navigate this chaotic world. But vaunted writer that I am, I can't. I'm capable only of the occasional snippet that, I hope, inspires others to look at their own children and try to do better.

Happy birthday, little man. May your next 11 years be even more exciting than your first.

Love,

Dad