This week, I realized that it has been an entire year since my wife and I started telling people that a baby was on the way. It was such an exciting time, and I am pleased to say that the excitement has never waned. I still remember sharing the news with brothers, parents and friends.
For as long as I can remember, I have known that babies are a big deal. As I have shared previously in this column, I was born two and a half months premature. At one point, I weighed 2 lbs, 9 ounces. I received loads and loads of attention, like a baby movie star living in a fancy uptown incubator. As I grew up, I was repeatedly reminded that my life was special.
When I was a toddler, my mother took me to a festive miracle-baby celebration at a nearby hospital. The party was held to celebrate the lives of prematurely born infants, years after their births. While my memories of the event are hazy, I remember that I felt important. Music. Clowns. Miracle Toddlers. It was a glorious Preemie Party.
In a similar way, I hope to constantly remind my child that his life is a blessing. I eagerly anticipate his adventures, his mistakes, and his triumphs. All blessings. I have accepted that one day I will find that my child is terrible at baseball. Although this will be a sad day, I can say with confidence that I will still think my child is the greatest shortstop to play the game.
A year after discovering that my baby existed, I now get to spend time with him each day. Some of the days have been wonderful, while others have been extremely tough. Even so, I can say with confidence that he is the greatest baby to ever live. The excitement has never waned.
As a toddler, I never understood why preemies were being celebrated. I now understand that people simply want to remind themselves that life is precious, and give thanks. My hope is that I never stop being thankful for this incredible gift.