He is nine today - I cannot think of it and of him and how tiny he was and how worried I was without wanting to cry. And now he's a strapping (really I mean significantly above average rugby-playing strapping) 9 year old.
I have had him 8 years and we've both survived. Indeed, thrived. I'm so proud of him, he's such a fighter.
I haven't even blubbed about his birth mother today, it feels all about him. He's has such a good day - went to see Paddington last night then had about 4,000 boys over for a sleepover in my living room. He had about 3 hours sleep and then we met family for lunch which he managed (barely!) to stay awake for.
He dozed off for 20 minutes (unheard of) at teatime cuddling... his new nerf gun!
I can't help it - I have to post some photos...