A reflection on August 29th...

Has it really been two whole years?

It seems like yesterday that I was told we probably wouldn't be able to have children, and certainly not without medical intervention. And look at us now!

I remember the night I found out I was pregnant with Dylan. It seriously was the happiest moment of my life. I cried for hours, so full of joy that I felt like I would burst.

I remember feeling him kick and hiccup and roll around while I was pregnant, so excited to see him and hold him that I could hardly wait.

I remember holding and feeding him for the first time, feeling so awkward and unsure and unnatural, but doing it anyway.

I remember bringing him home from the hospital, absolutely terrified about having another human being to be responsible for.

I remember all of it, but it seems like a dream sometimes. Especially when I reflect on the past two years and honestly have to ask myself where the time has gone. Each individual day has gone so slowly, filled with diapers and cooking and cleaning and feeding and seeing to every physical and emotional demand of my Dylan. But put them all together and it has been lightening quick.

Life certainly changed with Dylan's birth, but it is infinitely more sweet. We got to have a tender moment yesterday amidst the manic fun. I went to collect him from the big sand pit to bring him back to the picnic table so we could blow out candles. I held him in my arms and told him I loved him. I asked him if he knew he was my miracle baby--the child I was told I probably would never have--and if he knew how much I loved him. He said yes, and hugged me tight, stroking my back. He didn't even try to wriggle free. And I loved him in that instant with the most pure love I have ever felt. He is my miracle.

August 29th also marks another anniversary--not just Dylan's birthday. That's the date stamped in my passport for our arrival in England. We have lived here for 4 years now. Over half of our married life has been spent here and we are now officially IN year 5 of our five year plan for England. And it sees us just where I wanted to be. Trying to move back home.

I remember how excited I was to move over here. It seemed so thrilling and daring and exotic, living in a "foreign" country. And while it WAS daring, putting everything we owned in storage and moving over here with nothing but two suitcases a piece, it isn't particularly thrilling or exotic.

If there's one thing I've learned (besides to appreciate my own country, flaws and all), it's that life is the same no matter where you are living. It still involves work and sleep and cooking and cleaning, friends and family, love and fights, worries about money, the works! The only thing that changes is the scenery--the stuff on the edges that doesn't matter anyway. My family is my life, and it doesn't matter one bit where we are living.

But my extended family is is Utah, and so that's where I want to be.