In and amongst all of our holiday festivities, Buddy turned one year old. In a way, it marks the end of "worrying" about how he is. I mean, I will *always* worry, but since he was a preemie, we have sort of been "watching" him more than we did the girls. Buddy was born 6-1/2 weeks early, and was in the hospital for about three weeks before he could come home, and then it was with a heart monitor. He would chug his bottles so quickly and aggressively, he would literally forget to stop and breathe.
His pediatrician has been terrific, and Buddy has really caught up to where he should be for a one year old. All is well, and there is a bit of a 'sigh of relief' for us now. I've been carrying this worry around for just over a year, and it got to the point where I didn't even realize it any more. All this worry I've been carrying is a hard thing to just put down and walk away from. I'm doing it, though... or, at least I'm trying.
He has come a long way in a year. For that, I'm extremely grateful.