Ronan's first birthday.

A year ago today, not at this exact moment, I gave birth to the most wonderful thing in my life. He was delivered at 2:24 p.m. and I saw him for the first time, on my chest, and our eyes met (though he couldn't see yet), and all I could do was cry and say over and over, "My baby, my baby."

A year later he is so handsome, so smart, has imagination and creativity already running through his blood, has 11 teeth, and knows I'm "mama." He is a pleasure to all who meet him, and expresses affection and humour better than any adult.

A year-and-a-half ago, I was scared to death. I couldn't decide if I wanted to be a mother, or if I could, if I had what it took; I was miserable and despised pregnancy, and concerned that I married my husband too soon.

Not a single second of that matters now. The divorce doesn't matter - all the fights and cruel words and crying and screaming and hardship. The only thing that matters is that perfectly healthy little boy that was borne to me on February 17th, 2009 is still that perfectly healthy little boy (with ragweed allergy, he can thank his dad for that one) and I wouldn't have had him given to me any other way.