First Birthday

A year ago, I gave birth to my little boy in a big tub upstairs in my bedroom.   A year later, two surgeries, (with one more to go!) an ambulance ride, four ER visits, and countless doctors and specialist appointments later, he's turned into a little person who has taught me more about miracles, patience and strength than I ever thought possible. 

We joke about Max being trouble right from the start.  It took us two years, three cycles of fertility drugs and being told that I was certainly going to miscarry him, then two days of labor to get him here.  He was born with his cord wrapped around his neck three times and had to be fully resucitated.  When he was two months old, I was told to stop breastfeeding or we were risking pneumonia from aspiration and permanent lung damage.  Ten months later, we are still breastfeeding multiple times a day with no end in sight. He went through a major six hour surgery and then survived the resultant five days in the PICU, and the hospitalization with the flu a few days afterwards.  We made it through another minor lip surgery, the swine flu, and all the normal bumps, bruises, and parties in the toilet water common to toddlers.  He's a miracle baby, and we fully expect that there's at least one more miracle in his future when we go through one more surgery.

Happy Birthday little buddy, I love ya!  And if possible, could we make the second year a little less dramatic?  Thanks.