28 years young.

Hendrix's new favorite thing to announce is, "I have two babies, mama!" He usually pulls that one out while I'm nursing Roscoe and cuddling him at the same time. He'll sit back and say it as though he's realizing it for the first time, "I have two babies, mama!" Sometimes, he says it more like a question, "I have two babies mama?!" as though he's trying on the idea for size, moving around in his new role as a sibling.

I find myself whispering that to myself in the middle of the night between feedings. I curl up with my pillow after laying a perfect, sighing Roscoe down in his bassinet, in awe of my new life. "I have two babies. Two babies..."

In a lot of ways, I can barely reflect on the past year, because so much of it is all about this. I have two babies. My boys are my whole world. I am happier than I have ever been; I feel more at home in my skin than ever before. Life is so good.

A year ago, as I wrote this, Roscoe was a mere possibility, a conversation. Now he's here. My little boy, my family. I have two babies. There's not much else to tell right now; I am so blessed.