Harrison. My little man. He had me sleepless with worry when he was in the NICU with a PDA/heart issue, lungs that couldn't function without something called a CPAP, and jaundice. He was born a whopping 3.7 lbs. It wasn't until I retrieved photos for this post that I realized just how far he's come. Now, I'm bereft of words when I try to describe the joy and gratitude I feel when I reflect upon his journey.
He's a crazy man! He's all over the place— crawling, attempting flying leaps off of his changing table, and cackling mischievously as he uses his brother as a human launchpad. He takes breaks from his play to climb into my lap, stare directly into my eyes and explore my face with his little fingers. He crushes his milestones and scoffs at the label "preemie". Yes, he's still tiny. But he's a force to be reckoned with, this one. I can already predict his lifelong intention: to seize life and extract every bit of fun and adventure out of it. I suspect that he's somehow aware of the struggles he's overcome and is thinking, "It's time to party, ya'll."