First birthday

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Last week was my son Owen’s first birthday. While we celebrated, memories of that day one year ago came flooding back. Owen was born 10 days early through an emergency C-section. Our doctors realized just that day that he was breech and Sara had preeclampsia. It was a hectic, scary day.

One thought I can’t seem to shake: For the vast majority of human history, both Sara and Owen would have died right then and there. So many fathers going through the exact same thing had their lives devastated forever. And yet, I get to celebrate with them both in great health one year later. I am so grateful to live when I do.

On some level this feels like an obvious, trite thought not worth making. Yes, yes, let’s all be grateful. We get it, Peter. But at the same time, given the events that day, how could I do anything other than jump for joy singing the praises of all that humanity has accomplished?

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