Nothing Fancy

Every moment is a blessing. 

He's sprawled on the couch, sucking his fake paci (it falls out when he falls asleep but he will intermittently keep sucking). His cheeks are rosy. His hair is fuzzy from last night's bath. I'm folding laundry. 

Just our daily life. 

Nothing fancy. 

Whole. Complete. A bursting heart. 

Hollow

Every day brings a new reminder of my blessing.

On Friday, I sat in the medical records waiting room where I eagerly awaited beta results. I remember that clock. It ticked very loudly. Each. Agonizing. Second. 

Yesterday, time flew by. Baby boy was snuggled in the B.oba. I talked to him. He grinned. I bounced him and fed him a bottle. 

Before him, time was hollow. Empty. Long. 

Now time is full. Warm. Much quicker. 

Today I had baby boy down on the floor to play. He's really into reflections right now, so I let him stare at himself in a mirror. The mirror I bought to set on the counter to do my shots.

Full circle. 

We made it. 

Awe

On Wednesday, I drove from the hospital to the gym where D coaches basketball. It's the same route I drove when I had the scary bleed (we were at Walgreens on the way to his basketball game when it happened).

That night all that could run through my head was what if the baby is gone? I wasn't sure I could keep going towards a baby if I lost him/her. It was one of the scariest and saddest times of my life. 

And here I am. Headed to another season of basketball games with sweet baby boy in tow.

Almost every day there is a moment that takes my breath away. 

Yesterday, pulling out of the pediatrician office where my 4 month well baby visit was perfect (minus him bring a noisy breather and still not sleeping through the night-- such small things), U.nanswered Prayers" by G.arth Brooks came on. While I don't agree with the theology of the song, I feel the sentiment. 

For three years I prayed every day for each possibility to work. Baby boy is meant for us. God knew what he was doing (of course He did). 

Growing

My heart was healed the moment he looked into my eyes. Years of pain melted away. Tears were a distant memory. 

Now that my heart is healed, it has room to grow. 

The rolls on his little (big) legs? My heart grows. 

The way he jumps with pure joy as he learns and discovers new skills? My heart is even bigger. 

EDA Awareness

I'm a day late and a dollar short. 

EDA Awareness Day sailed by with no recognition here. 

But I still have the informational graphics to pass along. Credit goes to snowflakebabies.org. 

Feel free to save these and share on any social media. Who knows what potential donor or recipient will see them and find out about this miracle?