Pie N Burger

Drew turned four, and to say I am amazed by how fast time has moved is an understatement.  Four years ago my wife and I were in the hospital as she braved 24+ hours of labor to be ultimately met by a C-section, and brought this miracle into the world.  The way I remember things though intrigues me.


The night before Drew was born my wife and I went to a small diner.  It is one of our favorite places and we have fond memories of eating there, we ate dinner and later that night my wife, 41 weeks into being pregnant with our first, went into labor.  


So the day before Drew's birthday my wife and I went out on a date, and we arrived at that very same diner, but this was not a plan.  I didn't even think of that, but sure enough the flood of memories came to me in an instant.  Then I wish it was a plan.  If you ask me to mention specifics of the last 4 years of fatherhood, I'd hit and miss with details, but the one and only thing I do know is I have loved it, and this fascinates me.


In Drew's classroom for his birthday they did a "story of your life" and there was Drew declaring at one years old he remembered us reading to him and getting back scratches from momma.  I cried.  


My memory of that first year is far different, but I do know that his birthday will forever be tied to me, the day I became a dad, and the day I started my career (one year later) both started on that day.  I can remember a lot, and only a little at the same time about that first year, and sadly when you ask new parents or old ones for that matter about parenthood the overriding sentiment seems to be "tired."  


I am tired this is true.  I remember being clueless (I still am) and I remember being afraid and feeling small.  But parenthood for me is me meeting God for the first time.  Until that moment I held my son I felt big, like I was so important, much like any 20 something probably does, and as if someone hit a switch I shrank and God showed me how truly awesome life is. I held my son in my arms and I was looking at the face of God, a perfect pure child, and I felt completely overwhelmed with the incredible gift I had been entrusted with...I still am.


 I have witnessed a young child grow to the point of self expression, from nothing, and yet the minutia of details you would think I could recall with eerie accuracy, I can't.  In fact the minutia is a blur and my memory is more of feeling.  In some ways I regret not journaling and blogging more as my son was little, but part of me is happy I have my feelings mixed with photos.  While I lack a crystal clear picture I think some of my less than perfect memories are blurred even if that meant I loss the perfect clarity of the wonderful moments.


My son just turned four, and I hope he realizes how much of a gift he is to me.