So some choose names because they sound good, some want something different...Brent and I decided - or sort of ended up with family names for all 3 of our babies.
David Oliver comes from my Dad (David) and Oliver is a bit his (my David) and a bit an uncle of mine in England who has always been simply amazing to me.
My Dad died almost 2 years ago. He went for his usual morning jog, came home, bent down to untie his shoes and collapsed. He was 57 years old. Needless to say, there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of him, miss him, wonder if he'd be proud, wish that he could be here to see our little ones continue to learn, grow, and hold me in complete awe of their strength, determination and abilities.
Yesterday (the 27th of July) would have been my Dad's 59th birthday. How appropriate that after 99 days in the NICU, and after just barely passing 4 pounds, our little peanut was sent home. We are so so happy, amazed and just overwhelmed with our great many blessings and unexplained happy turns in the grand scheme of the past 8 or so months. We truly are some of the luckiest people I know.
Brent and I decided not too long after the babies were born that we would celebrate their homecomings as if they were a birthday of sorts. To me, they truly are their birthdays. They are a beginning for them and for our family.
I am so excited to be here, in this moment - with the colic queen, the poop master and the respectfully afraid husband. I am so happy and content to be here - just here - not knowing what's around the corner is perhaps the most amazing gift of all.
home at last - love to all,