Today is the last Love Thursday I will have with only one child. As I reflect on this time with my heretofore only son, I have wonderful memories of my time with him.

After what was pretty much a textbook pregnancy, I had assurances from my OB that I’d have an uncomplicated delivery. Wrong! On the day my son was born, I took an afternoon nap, after walking most of the day with my mom. When I woke up, I realized I hadn’t felt any movement for a couple of hours. Since I’d just had a non-stress test, I replicated what I did and drank some soda to see if he would move. Nothing. I called a nurse friend of mine. She said it could just be the baby in the birth canal, which doesn’t have a lot of wiggle room, but to call my OB just to be sure. I did, and they had me come in. To make it short, my son’s heart rate plummeted to under 65 and I had an emergency C-section. My placenta had begun to break down, and my son had been connected to me by a mere thread. He had an APGAR of 1 and had to be revived. He was taken to the NICU for observation. The doctors told us he may have some neurological and respiratory issues, and would most likely be in the NICU for a couple of weeks. My son is a fighter, and knocked the respirator loose, and began breathing on his own after about 36 hours. They began calling him the “Miracle Man” and after only five days, he was discharged from the hospital. All neurological tests came back fine.

Fast forward 2 years and nine months. My son was diagnosed with auto-immune Type 1 diabetes. He endures multiple finger sticks a day (which he has been administering himself since shortly after his fourth birthday (obviously with supervision!)). He never complains about the many things he has to go through with this chronic illness.

My son has a fantastic temperament, one closer to my husband’s than my own, I’m thankful to say! People compliment him on his manners all the time, and he’s generous to a fault. He’s a little man who opens doors for the ladies. He’s got a heart a mile wide.

He’s the sort that just seems to be made to be a big brother. Three years ago, we thought he would be. Upon hearing that I was pregnant with a sibling, he made a list in the car that morning: “I have to smile a lot at the baby, give the baby a lot of love, and my most important job is to teach the baby about Jesus!” Sadly, it was not to be, and I miscarried somewhere around my tenth week.

With this adoption, he’s had to move from a beloved home to a bigger one - one of many adjustments he’s had to make - and all for love. He’s risen to the occasion admirably and he’s done it with grace and equanimity. Before he even met his future sibs, he loved them. Now that he’s actually met them, he’s even more in love. I cannot count the times this week he’s come to me and excitedly rattled off how much more time there is before we leave to get the kids!

So, on this last Love Thursday with him as my only child, I dedicate this one to my oldest son. I love you.