26 years ago, I woke in the middle of the night (2:15 AM, to be exact) and didn't feel so good.  I was nine days past my due date and soooo ready to give birth.  I called the midwife and told her nothing was really happening yet.  In the middle of the call, she sensed a change in my voice and said she was on her way. Less than two hours later (4:05, to be exact), we held our baby boy in our arms.

His birth came fast and was a bit more, shall we say, exciting, than we had expected. A slow heart rate momentarily during labor and the cord tight around his neck at birth were just a bit scary for us, but our midwives did what midwives do and delivered him with care and skill.  That baby boy got his name the next day. "He looks like a Thomas," I said.  Named after his father, he's the one that most resembles Coty in looks.  He takes after him in many other ways, as well.  He's planning to run his first marathon in March.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

He became a father this year, as you faithful readers know.  One of the great joys for me in 2014 has been watching my son care for his son.  He is a very good father, a very involved father, not a bit afraid of his newborn or tentative like some new dads.  I watch him cuddle his little boy, watch him change diapers, tickle and toss his baby in the air with confidence and joy.  I am filled with delight and gratitude.

Happy birthday, Thomas. It's been quite a year, hasn't it!