Mind Over Mutter

This is Nathan, in the flesh. Seven days old. I know I'm prejudiced, but I think he's an extraordinarily handsome young man. And not just because he's the son of my son.

OK, OK, that's a big part of it, but said son was possibly the ugliest baby ever born. His daddy was a very tiny preemie, and anyone who has ever seen a real preemie knows that they look a awful lot like spider monkeys who have been dipped in NAIR.

Nathan, at just over 8 pounds was almost twice the size of his Dad at birth. He's also physically perfect, and much, much healthier than Michael was. Michael was a mess, and the first three years of his life were a constant round of doctors, hospitals, surgeons, braces, medicines with scary side effects, etc.

Maybe that's why the newest member of the family seems so beautiful to me. Nathan was what I dreamed infant Michael would be, only to have those dreams shattered by the most frightening reality. Michael grew to be the most amazing son--- the kind of child, youth and man that any parent would be proud to claim, but the terror and stress of those first years nearly overwhelmed me.

It wasn't sensible or logical, but I feared from the moment I knew he was on the way that history would repeat itself. I have never been so pleased to be wrong.

Nathan is incredible, beautiful, healthy, strong, and very much loved.