A year ago I could feel your hands, feet, elbows and bum pushing against my belly. Today you put your hands, feet, and elbows in a tray of paint.
A year ago I laid on my side, breathing through contractions. Today I laid on my side, nursing you for what might be one of the last times.
A year ago I had no idea who you were in there–what you would look like, what your name would be, your personality. Would you be our son or our daughter? Today you have my ears, my nose, your Daddy’s blue eyes, and white blond hair that neither of your parents has sported since infancy. Today you are loud, inquisitive, smiley, and so smart. Today you are my sweet baby boy, my beautiful son, my Ezra Benjamin.