Here is Luke a few days ago.
He was still technically ten then, but we will say anyway that this is what he looks like at eleven.
He hasn't changed much in the past few days.
Here is me, eleven years ago, in labor with him.
Our home hadn't been remodeled yet, we had been married three years, we didn't know whether this baby was a boy or a girl, we didn't know someday we would have four.
All I knew was that it hurt.
Hours later, while being monitored, moments after getting an epidural, this little boys heart rate dropped and didn't come back up.
We later found out that there had been a blockage of blood flow in my placenta probably causing his distress and his low birth weight.
He was born via extremely stressful, scary emergency c-section.
He came out howling.
He weighed 5 pounds 9 ounces and ate like a champion.
The nurses put a Polaroid picture of him in my room that said, "May the force be with him" and called him a "barracuda."
I was proud.
Here we are with him, first time parents.
Completely in awe.
We have no idea that he will be a colicky baby, causing us to dance around the room with him, Shania Twain playing loudly night after night.
For some unknown reason, her voice soothed him.
And look at these little guys.
They are my sister's twins, now as tall as me.
They were three.
Here, Mister Luke is in his car seat, ready to go from the hospital.
He was drowning in his giant clothes.
Family promptly went out and bought us preemie size.
This is the moment when we felt like the hospital was completely insane for letting us strap him in the car with us and drive away.
And here I am five years later.
It is Mister Luke's fifth birthday.
Jack is there in front of me.
We spent the afternoon at Chucky Cheese, then had twenty family members at the house.
I was supposed to give birth to Toots three days later.
Chucky did me in and instead,
he was born the next day!
I finally learned how to scan pictures.
Aren't you proud?