My Spring Thanksgiving Season

It always kicks off with Christopher's birthday.

Induction Day

His birth is what set everything into motion - or rather, one bacon cheeseburger at Chili's and my propensity for having "morning" sickness at odd times and/or so late in pregnancy did - for Pneumogedden.

I was already sick here, unbeknownst to us, incubating bacteria in my lungs.

And in the two weeks between his birthday and mine, it all settles in.

The reflections on just what hell on earth we went through.

The million little gratitudes for our families, those we were born into and those Seth and I built through our church, our neighbors, and that we created while in the hospital.

The awareness that my body is FREAKING AMAZING. (God knew what He was doing, eh?)

Sometimes, I get a little psychosomatic and my scars begin to itch terribly before I start to enter this spring Thanksgiving season.

Other times, I think, "It's been YEARS. Get over it already!"

But here I am, marveling at it all over again.

Specifically from the angle of how I was still able to nourish my then-newborn baby boy, despite all odds.