I sit here this afternoon, holding my baby boy tightly, snuggling him in close, breathing in the smell of him. I sit here this afternoon, tickling him up his tiny ribs, in his wee armpits, and under his baby-fat double chin. I sit here this afternoon, listening to my precious little boy giggle, watching him as his infectious smile works its way from a little grin to a smile so big his whole face lights up.
I sit here this afternoon and remember grief. Waves of recollection crash over me as I remember the first few days after Jake’s diagnosis ~ waves of grief so high and wide and long I thought I would surely drown. Streams, rivers, tsunamis of tears, as I was confronted with the new reality that lay before me. As I processed the loss of what I thought would be, and came to grips with what was.
I sit here this afternoon, fully aware that I am blessed beyond measure. My grief was fleeting, momentary. My sorrow, my tears have turned to joy. Have turned to gladness. Have turned to celebration. My firstborn son is healthy, is thriving, is learning and growing, is perfect.
I sit here this afternoon and mourn with those who mourn.
I sit here this afternoon, so thankful for the blessings of my children. I do not take that for granted.