Ten years, for real

 I am going to let you in on a secret. I don't really consider Teddy's birthday as monumental as Amy does (or as Teddy does for that matter). It's important to celebrate him and make him feel loved and appreciated. But on the day of his birth, things were different, but in a way that they never were again. He spent 46 days in the hospital, and they were harrowing, painful, joyful, maddening, grateful, crazy days. But they were so far outside the norm of what we do, that they almost seem like a strange dream. But then, on December 7, 2013, at about 5:00 in the evening, we took Teddy home from the hospital. And then things became real and normal. 

We spent the night before watching him ourselves and taking care of him without aid from the nurses. December 6 was a Friday night. We were planning to go home Monday, but Saturday morning the doctors all decided that he didn't need to still be in the hospital. So we woke up that day and I ran home to finish up his room. I had to get a bunch of stuff ready. I had to finish getting his room set up for him. I had to get my parents on red alert for if we needed help. Amy had to have a mild panic attack. And then, at 5, we took him home. 

When we got home, Amy let me sleep. She, however, didn't sleep. For the next 2 days Amy didn't sleep. She eventually got sick, and crashed, and I was stuck with this tiny stranger in my house and I needed to call in the calvary in the form of my mom. Mom showed up roughly 37 seconds after I hung up the phone and said "I'll hold Teddy. You take care of your wife." 

And then I blinked, and ten years past. Teddy is funny and smart and cheerful and friendly. Every single teacher at his school knows him. He's got friends in his grade and 5th grade and with some of the high school kids. He's even friends with the principal and the superintendant of schools. He's had challenges. He has ADHD. He's gifted. His mind works in ways that are remarkable, but not entirely normal for a 10 year old kid. He's kept me on my toes, and being his father is the most challening, rewarding, maddening, difficult thing I have ever done. Happy second tenth birthday, Ted. For what it's worth, this is the one that I count. It's when we got to stop having the strange terror of people afraid that you were going to leave us at any moment, and when we started to have the normal, impossible, amazing fears that every parent has.