Happy Birthday, Ryan!

Ryan turns 25 today. That's a whole quarter of a century, the old geezer! I'm allowed to say that, since I am, for 25 more days, still his young 24-year-old wife.

This day is very special, and not just because the man I love was born 25 years ago.

Bbbbbzzzzzzzzzerp: let's rewind 365 days.

February 20th, 2012. Ryan woke up in the sun-shiny bedroom of our old downtown Milwaukee apartment on the sixth floor. I probably rolled over and said "Good morning" and "Happy birthday." (It's been a year, I can't be sure.) Ryan walked to the bathroom, and got in the shower. Halfway into his shower, I crawled out of bed and called to him, "Should I take a pregnancy test?" He responded with something like, "Sure." or "I guess." or "If you want." (Ryan is akin to a grizzly bear and a man of few words in the morning.) So, anyway, I took the pregnancy test. It was the second or third test I had taken after losing our first baby, and each one had been negative. My hopes were up, but not too high. I set the test down on the sink and went into the kitchen.

Five minutes later, and I had already (mostly) forgotten about the test. I was standing by the stove in my pajamas, frying up some birthday eggs, when Ryan walked in. He stood there in a towel (wolf whistle!) with the test in his hand and a big smile on his face.

And that, my friends, is how we met Ralphie.

My whole point is, it's been a year since we've been a mom and dad to Ralph. A year full of excitement and happiness and a lot of worrying. And Ryan has been so wonderful through all of it. I had known for so long that he would make the best dad, but actually seeing it happen has been the sweetest thing. I married a really good man, you guys.

Plus, he's cute.

And he's really funny. (That's my favorite part.)

So, from now on, February 20th will be a day of celebrating both of my boys. Neato, am I right?

Happy birthday to you, my Ryan. You're wonderful.