He'll be three in 4 months. He receives speech once a week for an expressive language delay. Not bad. He outgrows it a little more each day. But his speech therapist was talking about him starting preschool in the fall.
I swear, my heart caught in my throat. He's my baby. How can that be? And then I thought of this little blog. Remember my intention to have it turned into a book? I never did that. Maybe this will be the year I finally do it.
I don't know what else to say here. I could try to sum up how it feels to be Zachy's mom. How much he means to me. There are no words. He and his brother are everything. Still. Long after the dream of medical school was surrendered, long after I decided to move up and get a business degree. And then when I said that wasn't enough and I wanted an MBA, and now here I am about 11 months from finishing that. And if I were in the same position again, I would do it all again. Every contraction. Every needle. Every tear. Because he is here. You would have to hear his laugh, see his smile in person to understand.
I love that I kept this blog. I love that I can rewind and see this. I thought, at first, that it would be more primal, more raw. That seeing the blog, reading it, would bring pain. Instead, somewhere along the road, has morphed into something we survived. This is the story of Zach and I. Just like there is a story of Evan and I. This is just as much his story as it is mine.