Bananaversary

The actual post it note marking the appointment that started it all.

As we approach Cole's first birthday, there's another less festive but still significant anniversary to mark. One year ago today, at 1:30 PM on October 3rd 2008, everything went sideways on a pretty epic scale.

We managed to make our way through every anxious minute, but it's only now that we've come out the other side, that I truly appreciate the magnitude of the events that transpired (thank you survival instincts, for providing the emotional equivalent of giant styrofoam peanuts).

Now, we bask in the warm glow of all things Cole, but we still remember some of the harsh, fluorescent lit moments in the hospital.

The day that Cole shifted from twenty three to twenty four weeks gestation, crossing what the docs refer to as the "threshold of viability." That's the actual medical term for, well, might.

Listening as a doctor described the myriad of possible and potentially catastrophic side effects of being born at 24 weeks, and the higher math we did trying to calculate the remote possibility that he could be "normal."

The moment the doctor asked us to decide the "parameters for rescuscitation" for our unborn child and the mind-bending re-definition of "good parenting" that it required.

How odd it felt that the arrival of our little one didn't involve the typical madcap, sitcom style dash to the hospital, the standard bedside new family portrait, or any traditional celebration.

Feeling strange when someone congratulated us, and strange when they didn't.

Sitting with our baby boy as he set off alarm after alarm by "forgetting to breathe" and watching his heart rate drop on the bedside monitor. Hoping, wishing, willing him back to life. For months.

The loooooooong ten day wait to hold our little guy, and the very first butterfly cuddles.

The sheer terror, worry, wonder, hope. The crushing physical, mental and emotional exhaustion.

And yet, there have been a thousand points of light along the way. Of love and kindness, of luck and grace, of artistry and intuition, of care and snacks.

We have come to accept that though our story isn't conventional, we think it's special and beautiful in its own way. Preemie parenthood is an intense experience, and it has given us much more than we ever imagined.

We feel so lucky, and very, very grateful for Cole, who had spirit, and fight, and heart, and courage, and even a little bit of sass as he faced yucky challenges and eked out tiny triumphs along the way. Even the doctors marvel at our fat little miracle, who defied all the ugly odds.

Might we use this solemn occasion as another excuse for cake? Probably. Because today, we celebrate all the elements of our extraordinary journey. And what's a celebration without a little something sweet?