Sometimes I forget how little you were.
I get caught up in the milestones.
I forget how little you were when you were born at 33 weeks. How strong you had to be in those first few moments of your life, when they inserted the IV drip and feeding tubes.
I forget how independent you had to be. When all the other babies spent their first night on this earth with their mommies, you had only a beeping machine and nurse to comfort you.
I forget how our first moments together were taken. Mommy never got to hold you when you were born. You were taken away quickly so that you could get an oxygen mask. I never got to hold your little hand or kiss your cheeks.
I forget how strong you had to be, when mommy could only meet you the day after you were born. And could only hold you for the first time after day two.
I forget how brave you had to be, spending your nights in an incubator, putting up with UV lights for jaundice, being poked and prodded with needles.
I forget what a little fighter you were, spending only 9 days in NICU and then coming home to us.
Nunu bug, you may only be 2 years old, but you are more courageous than many adults I know. I am so blessed that you are my son.
To all the moms with preemies out there, stay strong and remember what a special little fighter you have.