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And without too much fanfare, all things considered. 

My baby Garrison's ultrasound photos are no longer on my refrigerator.  I had tried to do it a million times in the last 2+ years and have answered scores of questions about them (you usually don't keep ultrasound pictures on display when you aren't pregnant any longer).  I had kept my now-17 mo. old baby Devon's up there also, so it wouldn't seem quite so weird.  Garrison's photos gave me pleasure, because they documented the last time I "saw" that precious baby alive.  At the same time, they held me hostage and ruined many a day when I'd make a failed attempt to relocate them to the memory box. 

But this weekend I was having a very small potluck dinner in honor of a special friend with thankfulness as the theme and the scales of grief and thankfulness must have finally reached "equal" status.  On Friday, I simply reached up, took off the photos, ran upstairs and put them in my scrapbooking drawer and then ran away.  I was instantly happy about it and so strangely proud of my accomplishment.  It felt like a weight was lifted.  Didn't even cry about it until I was telling Mrs. MonkeyParade about it on Saturday (now yesterday).  Note to self:  Mrs. MonkeyParade is an extraordinarily good listener. 

In spite of what people say, I know that, while I can tuck a photo in a drawer, I will never really be able to tuck that grief away, or outgrow it entirely, or have "time heal all wounds."  Occasionally, like this morning (in the shower), a memory from those terrible days strikes me and is still as overwhelming and fresh as July 12th, 2005 -- when I got the unbelievable news and had to relay it to the King via telephone because he was so far away.  But I think the tapestry of my life is made more elegant by Garrison's very existence, however brief.  If he had never happened, I would have been robbed of the joy I experienced in the few months I carried him.  And what of the blessing that I received in conceiving Devon just 2 months after a stillbirth -- when I was past 40?  Somewhere I read that there's only a 10 percent chance of even getting pregnant at the age I was.  In short, I got pregant twice in about 7 months -- at an "advanced age" with two completely perfect baby boys.  [Garrison died from a cord accident, which can happen to anyone -- and boy, did I suffer anxiety through the next pregnancy.]   I'm a lucky lady indeed.  Extremely "blessed" is more like it.

So, the photos are now out of sight, but in my heart, I'll carry the love of my precious Garrison forever.  And I will try to count my blessings more than I think on my life's tragedies.  It's a difficult balance, trying not to forget the good, in the inevitable remembrance of the "bad."

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Baby has reached a major milestone:  15 mo. old baby boy  can now shake his head "no."  Comes in very handy when you ask if he would like to go to bed, take a nap, or have a diaper change.

Not to mention that his interest in nursing seems to be sporadic, at best.  I am destined for a major hormonal drop of glass-half-full/half-empty proportions.

How did this happen?  The boy was just born yesterday...

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I cannot believe a whole, mostly glorious, 12-month long year has passed since Baby was born.  I remember the entire event, as though it was yesterday.

I felt so triumphant upon finally delivering him.  At the age of 41 and close on the heels of an earlier, devastating, lost pregnancy (only 2 months between), I had begun to felt like holding another healthy baby boy in my hands was the impossible dream. 

But on June 1, 2006 (6/1/06 -- like everyone else, we were praying for his birthday NOT to be 6/6/6!), Baby showed himself in all his very fat glory at 9 lb., 8 oz., after being induced one week early.  I was so done with being pregnant and since my last baby arrived so quickly that not even the doctor made it, induction was deemed a responsible option.  He was shaped almost exactly like Spongebob Squarepants.

He has had an exciting year!  In our household, we remember the passage of time mostly by trips taken.  His first trip was to Charlottesville, Virginia, for the Fourth of July Weekend.  He toured Monticello and had a generally lovely time.  This photo is of Oldest Son at Monticello -- didn't have a good one of Baby, but I promise he was there:

His next trip was a Caribbean Cruise.  Baby visited Haiti, Jamaica, Grand Cayman, and Cozumel.  Here he is in Haiti -- those are my poorly manicured toes you see behind him.  He is lying in my lap on a lawn chair in the shade.  Still portly:

The next trip was to Lexington, KY, over the Christmas Holiday.  The most recent trip was to Monroe County, TN, and just a bit over the border into North Carolina on Decoration Day (a couple of weeks ago):

I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to hold a sweet, bright, mostly-cheerful and loving baby boy in my arms after all.  Happy birthday, sweet baby!

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