I have sat down at the computer so may times in the past few weeks, ready to pour out all of the things that have been in my heart and on my mind. It happens to me a lot- I become like a clogged pipe, with lots to move through and no way to do it. A good friend of mine is a screenwriter, and he once told me that they key to beating writers block is to just sit down and type. Just write and write and write and, much like Drano down the kitchen sink, things will start to drain again.

But six years is still a nice bit of road, and there has been and growth and happiness and heartbreak already. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, and with luck, there will be more chunks of six years to walk ahead of us. Raising this human has been the greatest privilege of my life, and I am thankful every day for PJ and everything that comes with him. I'm thankful when it's easy and thankful when it's hard.
I wanted to sit down and celebrate this precious life, put down all of the things I was feeling about my sweet son, but then the world turned dark. It somehow seemed like flouting my blessings to sit and write about everything I was happy about (to all six people who read this blog, but you know what I mean). I would sit down at the computer to write about joy and just. could. not. write.

Six years ago, I was in the hospital with my newborn son. It was just us- everyone else had gone home to try and salvage the Thanksgiving meal we had so rudely interrupted. I decided to forgo the turkey and, instead, had tortellini's, eyeing this baby as I ate. I felt like I had no idea what to do, where to go, how to make sure that PJ had the best life possible. I can't change the world for PJ, as much as I would like to sometimes. And, as Anne said, "...in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." In six years, I have seen the world be the best it can be and the worst it can be. I myself have been the best I can be and the worst I can be. Parenthood, in general, brings that out in a person. And I have seen my son blossom in ways I never imagined at 4:17am when I held him on the outside for the first time.


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