This time ten years ago I was fighting for my life, and Declan's. I know that is so dramatic sounding, but it really was... dramatic. After Bryan and I dropped the kid at school today, we looked at each other and said - well, right about now they were flying down the hall with you clutched to a stretcher, trying to figure out why you were bleeding so badly.

Turned out I had a placental abruption, and ended up giving birth later that day - on Friday the 13th, 2002.

So much has happened in ten years.

But mostly, it has been a joy, a privilege, to watch what started out as four pounds of fight for life turn into a thoughtful, calm, funny, sensitive child.

I enjoy Declan. Truly enjoy his company.

Not that I didn't before - but it was different. That was more from a caretaker role.

Now I like hearing what he will say, and how he will make me laugh - how he surprises me all the time. Watching him show traits from both his father and me, but also become his own person.

When he was approaching his first birthday, I asked friends and family to write private letters to him, to be opened on his 18th birthday. I have seen similar stories around the blogosphere, and the emotion that wells up with these sorts of letters are read.

In our case, Declan's grandfather and great-aunt have passed since these letters were packed away. I am thrilled that my kid will have these pieces of family when he is an adult, but as I look at my son, now, today - at ten years old - I am so sad Pop Pop and Aunt Kitty will not get a chance to know him.

Because he is damn awesome.

Labels: Family, Nostalgia