And then I remember

Life is very busy, and rarely do I have a moment to think about where we've been, and how far we've come. In the quiet moments, unexpectedly, an experience seems to fall heavily on me. Sudden, crisp, and overwhelmingly clear as if I am living the moment all over again, for the first time, but with fresh eyes.

The moments after delivery when my two pound baby was quickly swept away to be swiftly worked on by expert gloved hands, so far from the peaceful beginning I hoped for. Weeping on my mom and sister's shoulder in the quiet moments alone while my baby was being whisked down the corridor...the days ahead overwhelming and filled with unknowns.

Or sleeping alone in the postpartum unit with no baby by my side, being told to watch the "how to care for you newborn at home" videos. (I didn't. I couldn't.) The hallow feeling in my womb where he should still have been. The drive I took every day, the panic in my heart as I sped down the same road, longing, desperate to see my baby, to hold him close, and feel that he really is okay. We were all okay. Not really ok, but that we were somehow making it through.

Can this baby, this incredible, pink, getting-chubby baby really, truly be that same pathetic, vulnerable baby that lived at the hospital for weeks and weeks?

As my mind goes back. The tears come.

For the stabbing pain I felt in those days, when I couldn't let myself feel the true depth of our pain and fears, for myself, for my baby who endured so much, for my older children who misunderstood. Tears of amazement and relief. We really did watch our baby have three blood transfusions, watch his monitors go off over and over again the alarm sounding because he wasn't breathing enough, or his immature heart would momentarily slow...ding, ding, ding. That the children don't resent Jimmy, in fact, they seem as mesmerized as we are.

We really did go to bed each night after calling the nurse, whoever it was that night, to check in on our baby. Not knowing if we'd be roused by a sudden phone call that we'd never recover from. Night after night after night. We'd hear the babies current weight, what his machines were set at that night, if there'd be any lab work. A brief, polite phone conversation does not fill the heart's void.

Fearing. Hoping. Exhausted.

Now I wonder --- How did we do it?

Only by God alone, who walked us through those days with love, support, prayers. From so many. He gave us strength we didn't know we had. How we've grown in ways I never would have asked for. But now? I would never trade the experience of clinging to Him - the gift of life savored- for another moment of simple innocence.

How true it is.

The greatest gifts often come from the greatest trials. Like the gift of this healthy, robust, curious, social growing baby!
He's doing so well this week. That virus a couple weeks ago that landed us in the ER gave him two terrible ear infections. A round of antibiotics cleared them up, and within a few days on them he was turning into the sweet, easy going baby I know him to be. He's even starting to get yummy baby rolls!

Still loving bath time. Remember back when he used to be bathed like this?

Tub bath at 3 weeks old

Now he's contentedly bathed in our kitchen sink.
Just like healthy, loved babies usually are :)