One whole year.

One whole year.

One year. One whole year.

One year of learning. One year of change, unexpected, joy, sadness, time moving too fast, dependency on God’s sufficiency, hope. One year of getting to know this incredible little boy we’ve been gifted with. 

One year of laughing. One year of “he just ______ for the first time!” One year of dimples, single eyebrow raises, singing “The Bumblebee Song” and reading “The Barnyard Dance”. One year of I love you, you’re the best, I’m so glad I get to be your mom.

One year of experiencing the unexplained, of making decisions we never imagined would be on the table, of learning to walk a road that seems to twist and turn at every step. 

One year of knowing that no matter what comes our way, we couldn’t be more honored to face it as his parents. 

One year of seeing the world through brand new eyes. One year of witnessing bravery and resilience. One year of knowing that no matter what we don’t know, we can trust the One who does.

One year of Liam.

That’s him, right there. At one whole year old. I can’t even type that without my eyes brimming with tears. Not because I’m sad he’s already a year. Because I’m just so glad he is. Because I can’t figure out how to find the words to accurately explain this amazing boy. 

With no explanation as to cause, Liam was diagnosed with a rare and serious form of Epilepsy, called Infantile Spasms, at 8 months old. The last few months following that diagnosis have been filled with neurology appointments, tests, procedures, and medications. Of phone calls and long appointments with our incredible naturopathic pediatrician who found so many options that have served Liam so well. Of research, firing one neurologist and praising God for the next, of advocacy and not backing down. Of unknowns that don’t resolve. Of watching Liam hurt and struggle at the hands of what we were told by one doctor would help him, of making unpopular decisions, of seeing him come back from regression and make small yet miraculous gains that fill us with incomparable joy and gratitude. There have been tears, a lot of them. There has been prayer, constantly. 

At times it has felt like this diagnosis and all that has come with it have stolen so much from Liam. That it has taken from him what his first year should have been like. And I can’t sugar coat it and say, “but that’s not true”. What is equally true, however, is that there is an Author to Liam’s story, to our story as a family, who can redeem, heal, and restore. He can bring peace, joy, and triumph. 

That does NOT make any of it better. But it does make it a journey we can walk.

So, Liam, as we celebrate the incredible joy of one year of you, here’s what I want you to know– Life can be so hard sometimes. It can be confusing. It can throw us things we never expected. And yet even in that reality, we can find what’s most true:  Who God is and who we are in Him. He is King and He is on the throne. He walks with us, and the hard things in life are not His fault. There’s a lot of really big conversation there, and we’ll keep having it as you grow. But for today, just know He loves you, so much.

He made you, on purpose with purpose. You are brave. You are strong-willed and determined. You have the most perfect dimples at the corners of your mouth. You have contagious laughter. You have gorgeous blue eyes, a perfectly dimpled chin, and a smile that takes over your whole face. You give in the middle of the night cuddles that make me forget I’m tired. You love music and swings and the way the trees move in the breeze. You like books and puzzles and twinkling lights. You fight hard every day to do things that come without effort to most. 

You are the best teacher we’ve ever had. You make us braver, stronger, less selfish.

You are the best gift we’ve ever been given. 

We couldn’t be more proud to celebrate one whole year of you, Liam. And we’re so excited for year two!

Some moments from our year. Enjoy!

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