I couldn't very well let this day pass without writing about it.
As I sit here drafting this blog post, I look back at the last twelve months in awe, shock, fading terror and sheer amazement.
Today is my son's first birthday. The birthday celebration for a little boy we thought we might never have.
So I'll keep this post short. Less is more and my family deserve my time today, tomorrow and for the rest of Elliot's first birthday week.
I could write about how much this sweet young lad means to me.
How I can still remember back to the time before he arrived but I don't ever want to. How I can see my wife's features plastered across his beaming infant face and I adore him for it. How he chats away before me, talking nonsense and gobbledygook, yet I understand every word, especially when he says "Dada".
I could write about the past year's rollercoaster of events.
How we've hurdled minor barriers and fought our own struggles - from losing beloved pets to facing unexpected work challenges and unwanted health issues. And all this time, a tiny, tender soul watches us without judgement, growing rapidly in front of our eyes as he changes from a heavily-swaddled baby to a vivacious wee boy.
I could write about the things Elliot has given to this family.
How we rush into his room in the early morning like two kids hurrying to open their Christmas presents. How we miss him at night when he's fast asleep in his bed, when the house becomes quiet, both a blessing and a shame. How six hours spent in daycare feel like eight, nine or ten. And when Thursday rolls around and his week at daycare is over, how excited we are to spend time with him again.
I could talk about his first birthday party on Sunday.
How it was the party to end all parties where he wasn't well and how he cried. How he screamed and then he howled, how he refused to eat and couldn't sleep. How the day felt like a drunken memory, the kind you cringe at and want to forget but you can't quite remember everything anyway.
How he made such a grand entry to this party, soiling his pants as I carried him into the restaurant through the front door. Nappy overflowing, newly purchased trousers leaking, the right arm of my fancy new shirt staining, a distinctly strange smell in the restaurant followed by the patrons quickly clearing.
In all this carry on and hoo-hah, I looked at his small red face, all tear-streaked and blotchy, nose running, hair messed-up, wearing a mix of stylish shirt and bedtime onesie. And the overwhelming love I felt for this beautiful addition to our family swelled through me, threatening to consume and to overtake.
This is a love that I neither wanted once upon a time nor expected. A love for a miniature person of our own making that is both inexplicable yet also makes perfect sense. But I won't talk anymore about these things today because this one day is about one person and one thing.
My precious son and his very first birthday.
Happy birthday dear Elliot from Mummy and Daddy for we love you and we love you and we love you x
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