We celebrated Ben's fourth birthday on Sunday. FOUR. Can you believe that?
Four incredibly short years ago we welcomed our little (literally... 5 pounds, 11 ounces) man into the world. There was a lot of joy that day. A lot of joy. I often reminisce about March 29th and recall the immaculate feeling of holding a newborn baby. There's absolutely nothing like that feeling and it's so hard to put into words.
March 29th was the calm before the storm, let's say. The day before my world collapsed and my body went crazy. The only day I remember being easy, comparatively speaking. So I love March 29th.
Birthdays are a big deal in our house. Not so much because of the party or the material aspects of the day, but because of what they represent. A lot of that stems from Alexis. Cystic Fibrosis is a terminal illness. While I don't focus on that phrase often, I can't ignore it. A diagnosis like CF puts a timeline on our little girl and, in turn, has changed the way we function, how we prioritize and even how we celebrate birthdays.
To me, every birthday is a reflection of how far we've come as individuals and as a family. Ben has achieved so much over the last four years. Physically, he can run and jump, kick a ball and build tall towers with blocks. He loves reading books and playing with "choo-choo's." He can count to 10 and can identify every letter in the alphabet. He loves music (Florida Georgia Line is his favorite), can work YouTube better than I can and turns our whole house into a drum set. His smile is contagious, his kisses will make you melt and his hugs are the absolute best. Developmentally, he's not your average four year old. Professionals and charts would tell you that he's only two, but who cares. Age is just a number.
We celebrate our days, weeks, months and years. We want more of them but we'll cherish what we are given as best we can.
Ben is four.
And he's amazing.