Christmas Letters

Dear Marshall,

Tonight is Christmas.

This morning we slept in late. We had cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate for breakfast.
We opened presents. We talked with grandparents and aunts and uncles. We snuggled on the couch and watched cartoons in our jammies all day.

We were all sick, but we made the best of it. Lots of snuggles. Lots of tickles. Lots of giggles and slobbery smiles.

We tried to take a family picture in front of the Christmas tree. Alice and Austin wanted nothing to do with it...even though they photo bombed almost every other picture we took.

At the end of the day, we filled the bath tub with bubbles and rubber duckies. After a bath and some milk, you were quickly sound asleep on my shoulder.

When I laid you down, you never opened your eyes, but you grabbed my finger and held it tightly. You were fast asleep again, still holding me close to you.

I laid there next to you, in awe of every rise and fall of your tiny chest.

Last year, I wanted nothing to do with Christmas. Dad and I went to Oregon, and I spent Christmas weekend running down the stormy beaches of the Pacific Ocean with Austin. I was hoping to run away from all the pain and exhaustion. I was praying for a break, for a change, for a fresh start.

One year ago today, on Christmas Day, I got the best Christmas present ever: those tiny pink lines that said I got another chance.

Those pink lines meant that I got you, and well, you really are the greatest present ever. My heart still hurts for your sister and your brother before you, but you make my heart so full and happy. Your smile and excitement for everything around you keep me going.

Merry Christmas, baby boy. I love you.