The first time I heard his heartbeat while holding the hubby’s hand.
The first time we saw him swimming around in there, healthy, taunting the ultrasound technician, showing off his goods.
The first time the hubby could feel him kicking from inside me.
The first time I held onto my little bundle and the hubby held onto me moments after he was thrust into this world.
The first time we walked through the doors of our home as a threesome.
The changing of the outgoing answering machine message to include a third name.
The retiring of a variety of boxed Hallmark holiday cards to be customized for each receiver for the Shutterfly, family photo version.
The “party of three” announcement at a restaurant.
The family membership at the YMCA.
All of these things, in the past 22 months, have solidified that the hubby, peanut and I are a FAMILY. Not just a husband and wife. But a bona fide, playground loitering, crafting, endless photo-shooting, memory making, holiday focusing family.
But it really hit home for me Sunday evening while sitting on the front porch with the peanut and the hubby eating a popsicle in the warm summer sunset. The same popsicle. Passed around between the three of us. Knowing that peanut has a cold.
Nothing says family like sharing licks off the family petri dish.