Today marks the six month birthday of our beautiful Alistair! Half a year with this little one.
My heart swells when I look at him and think of just how far along he’s come. Inquisitive and determined, always bursting with smiles, he’s the sweetest, funniest little man. With tiny feet that are now as long as his arm was at birth, he’s grown exponentially before our very eyes. His three month clothes are being packed away for a bigger size and our arm muscles quickly tire when snuggling all fifteen pounds of baby chub. Alistair loves to sing and squeal, coo and gurgle. He’s strong and has the most adorable, squishable, baby rolls.
I cherish these moments, soaking them up – I know they only last so long. Already we’re out of the infant stage and as much as I long for more than four hours of sleep, I know that he’ll never be this small again. I’ll miss these early morning snuggles, little fingers wrapped around mine, soft whimpers as he drifts to sleep in my arms. I’m honoured to have been given the gift of getting to watch this little one grow, to be his mom.
And while the everyday speeds by, a blur of feeds, naps and diapers – the milestones jar you to a sudden stop, flooding you with reflections. For us, these important stepping stones of a child’s life are also particularly difficult days. The same day that we celebrate half a year together, we also remember half a year apart. Six months ago, we were allowed the privilege of keeping one precious babe; the other was on a fast track graduation, born straight into Heaven.
While we grieve Landon, our family continues to flourish. We watch Alistair bloom with each passing day: muscles become stronger, teeth push against gums, hands grab and pick up toys, and new skills are learned. We rejoice as each of his goals are met and checked off. And although we are quick to fall back into a pattern of normalcy, we try not to take even one diaper or early morning feed for granted.
It’s been difficult to learn to walk the fine line between celebrating a life and grieving a loss. Losing one twin is a rollercoaster of emotions as you ride up and down, sudden highs or a quick drop at any corner. Two sons born – one struggling to breathe in an incubator, the other already singing and dancing in adoration, kneeling before the throne of the One Who Saves.
Happy six months my boys!