A mushy post.

I was going to write this yesterday, but things were way too busy, and I ended up just crashing last night instead of getting online.

Yesterday, at 4:01 a.m., my oldest baby turned 7 years old.

He is turning into such a cool little person. He cracks me up daily with stuff he says. (Like when I told him we may be moving to Georgia, he asked "Do they speak English there?")

His entrance into the world was a very reluctant one. At almost two weeks overdue, they finally just had to induce me. 12 hours after the pitocin started flowing, all 9lbs. 3 oz. of him came out screaming. I was exhausted, and overwhelmed. At 19, I wasn't really ready to be a mom yet. Then, reality set in. It turned out that there was something wrong with him. He started having seizures, and as he was whisked away to the NICU, I became a MOM. Momma bear instincts totally took over and I haven't looked back since.

His start was so rocky and uncertain. When talking to us about his future prognosis, the doctors used phrases like "IF he learns to walk. . ." and would look at us with pity in their eyes.

I wish those doctors could see him now. He not only walked just fine, but he is in the top reading group in his class, and just amazes me every day with just how much he knows. I believe there is a God, and I believe he had something to do with how Ryan has turned out.

p.s.- I think I am raising a giant. He just turned 7, and he is wearing a size 4 1/2 shoe!