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Nearly half a million babies (1 in 10) are born premature in the US each year which is higher than that of most other developed nations. This is the journeys of our first born son, Finnegan, who was born 14 weeks early and weighed only 1 pound 15 ounces at birth. Of our daugher, Korrigan, who was born a healthy 7 pounds, 7 ounces at 37 weeks. And of our second son, MacKeegan, who was also born at 37 weeks at a whopping 8 pounds, 13 ounces. Our continued adventures reminds us daily how good God is.

Tuesday, January 5

Lucky Seven

I think we can all agree that Finn has been "lucky" since the day he was born. He lived, first of all. Being over 14 weeks early and weighing less than 2 pounds, lucky doesn't even come close. He fought tooth and nail for 85 days to grow in strength and size so he could come home. He was so lucky to make it that far, because there are so many who don't. Then he was so lucky to have an amazing support system around him over the next two years to get and keep him healthy and on track.

But honestly, Jim and I are the lucky ones. Finn gave us strength. Courage. Perseverance. He taught us life lessons that nobody else could have taught us. Having him with all his "luck" drew us together and we know now with certainty that we can make it through anything. Most people don't have the luxury of that certainty. We are lucky that he is so smart and funny. We are lucky that he has and makes friends with ease. We are lucky that his biggest challenge at school is knowing when (and when NOT!) to chat with his friends. But most of all, we are lucky because he changed our stations in this world. He made us Mommy and Daddy. WE are so lucky.

Tonight, as I sit thinking about tomorrow, I am not feeling the same feelings I've experienced every year for his birthday...that whatever the next year, is so much different and "I can't believe he is that age!" Nope, I feel like he should be seven this year. It probably helps that he starts talking like he is seven starting in October! But also, he has been in school for a year and a half and I FEEL like he is big and grown and "older."

What I am struggling with is a sense of loss. Perhaps it is BECAUSE I feel like he should be seven and I'm not morning the loss of six, that I feel this way. I don't know. But I feel a loss of my baby. When he turned six, he was still my baby. But now, the snuggles are few and far between. I still get some kisses but they are hurried. He is busy and spends his time playing Minecraft or Legos (both of which do not include me!). His stories revolve around friends and events at school, which also don't involve me. He has homework. He does chores like sorting the laundry and doing the dishes. He is still very sweet and kind (when he wants to be or if his sister isn't around!) but it is different, too.

I know I'm being a bit dramatic because there will be a time in a future that will come all too quickly, when he actually IS bigger and gone and an adult and thankfully that time isn't now. But my little tiny 1 pound 15 ounce "lucky" baby isn't a baby any more. He will always be MY baby but not a baby. He is a strong, confident, smart, fun-loving, devoted, stubborn, caring, talkative young man. But he is lucky, too. Happy "lucky" seventh birthday to my amazing son. I couldn't love you more if I tried. I can't wait to find out what "lucky" things your seventh year will bring you and us. We love you to Pluto and back, Buddy Boy.

His last morning going to school as a six year old:

The day we became a family:

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