Diagnosis: Perfect.

Yesterday, my baby boy had his 4 month check up. Up until this visit, it seemed like every time we went to the doctor, Gray was in one state of distress or another. First, there were the newborn visits, normal but hectic. We all know how those go. Then at 2 months we went in because he was having trouble breathing from his first cold, which was followed by a trip to the ER. Again at 3 months, he was seen after more difficulty breathing from second cold... which lasted a full 16 days. Then, there was the weight check after I met with the lactation consultant, where I learned he was not gaining as much as he should have been. All things minor, but for a while there it seemed like it was one thing after another. Since then, it has been almost 6 weeks, and with no colds, and a switch to formula, and I was happier then ever to take my little guy in to get a full (scheduled) checkup, head to toe. 

The diagnosis?

He's perfect. 

Like perfect, perfect.

This surprises no one but me. 

I don't know if it's due to the years of anxiety during my "infertile" period, or the fact that he was conceived out of my body, or the fear from when we thought there may be something wrong with him after those false-positive tests results, but for some reason I have been harboring this idea that there just has to be something wrong. I look at my baby, and I see this beautiful little boy, and I still just can't believe he's here, and that he is, in fact perfect. I don't know what changed, but yesterday, for some reason, it was like a flip was switched, and I feel like I can finally can relax, knowing he's here, and there is really is nothing wrong with him. The best part, of course, is that he's all mine... and I don't ever have to give him back. As my Dad would say, he's a keeper. 

Here's my "perfect" little boy at 16 weeks (as you can see, they are no longer concerned about his weight... his thighs alone must weigh 5lbs!) 

Photos courtesy of his amazingly talented Auntie Jaimie, of Jaimie Arnold Photography.