Two days at daycare and the littlest one brought home the creeping crud. Snot and vomit for a week from him...now he's feeling better and Steve and I are sick. Fun stuff. (H...I'm just going to apologize in advance if any of you gets sick. I really thought he was over it and since we hadn't gotten sick, I figured we weren't contagious. I was wrong. I'm so so sorry.)
But on a positive note...Myles is seven months old (can you believe that?) and weighs 19 lbs, 1 oz. He is 27.5 inches tall. He had NO problems adapting to daycare and seems generally happy.
We took both boys to get studio photos taken and ended up spending A LOT of money. We couldn't help ourselves. We've waited SO LONG to have photos of our children together. Not that Sam's solo photos aren't gorgeous. But the cutesy "Brothers from the start, Friends to the end" that was printed on one of the portraits means something entirely different to me.
One of the things that caused me an enormous amount of pain in the days after Alex died was hearing friends talk about the interaction of their living children with each other. Such a joy to see how they love each other. So thrilling to see them interacting with one another. So painful to know how my boys were cheated.
To some extent, I still have "ghost child" issues when I see young siblings together. Sometimes the anger bubbles up. Sometimes it's just a sad smile that crosses my lips when I think of what was lost.
I long to see my boys TOGETHER...a wish that can never really come true.
I only had to excuse myself from the portrait studio once to wipe the tears from my eyes.