I left Ann Arbor and moved to DC...

... and I never even recorded any of it.

I never wrote anything about packing up our apartment, where Dave and I started our marriage and lived out our newlywed years, where Rocky died, and where my son was born.

I never wrote anything about sticking JD in a carseat and driving him, screaming at the top of his lungs, twelve hours across Ohio and PA. On second thought, that was a day in my life I'd likely rather forget.

I never wrote anything about living in limbo for over two months, at my parents, at my in-laws, and alone in a new city, while Dave took the bar and took off for Ireland. I never wrote about how we almost got a divorce, and how I almost felt again what it felt like when my heart broke before.

I never wrote about myself in my new home, in my new role, struggling with my own independence, struggling to make my husband understand that I matter too, that my day happens and is as interesting and important to me as his is to him. This struggle continues. I wonder what will happen?

But most of all, I never wrote about JD.

I never wrote one word about my baby, my son, my best friend, my life, my joy, my reason. I never told how he learned to crawl, to sit himself up on his own, to drink out of a cup. I never wrote about how he eats cherries and soft pretzels and a slice of pizza; how he slurps in spaghetti noodles with a big, satisfying smack and bangs the tray in delight, red sauce splattering everywhere.

I never discussed the way he will stand in front of the open refrigerator for an hour, fascinated by the condiments shelf. I never bragged about his first steps, or described the joy and glee we both felt as he toddled across the room on his drunken little sea-legs, flinging himself into my open arms with a shriek of delight. I never recorded my Bruiser's first bruise, a lovely shiner right on his chubby cheek, when he pitched face-first into the corner of the ottoman before I could catch him.

I never told of our stroller misadventures, how I let him careen down the hill on his first -impromptu- roller coaster ride, or how I got his stroller stuck in the gates of the Metro and the man in the yellow vest had to come over and free him, keenly observing, "Your baby's stuck."

I never shared the amusing ancedotes of JD waving Hi to the giant panda, or JD learning to loudly snort air through his nose like a raging bull, or JD boycotting bedtime by standing in his crib shaking the bars, tossing his Lambie overboard, and then shrieking with regret when he realized she was gone.

I never made note of his next four teeth, his first trip to the zoo, his daily walks with Shank all around our new neighborhood, or his participation in a baby music class. I never discussed my stroller insecurities, my struggles to fit in as the "new mom" at the playground, or the rebuffs by the library group (real or imagined). I never described how I wrote out two pages, typed, single-spaced, of instructions for the babysitter, only to find out that JD never even cried when I left.

I never explained how I have grown to love JD more and more every day, every minute, if that is possible, how it fills up my chest and catches my breath, and gives me a cold chill. I sometimes forget that there is anything more in the world besides him and me and how much I love him. But I never, ever forget how lucky we are to be in it together.