His last night as a three year old.
To say I’m emotional this year is a massive understatement. Every year around the month of October, the strong emotions start creeping in and…Thanksgiving…man, Thanksgiving and Christmas and the New Year will never be felt in the same way again. Every year, every birthday, I wonder what I will feel, how I will reflect on the past year, and every year has been different.
There’s been a lump in my throat this entire week as I remember how our delivery journey started; we almost lost each other. And that memory I’m learning, is something that no amount of time can ever erase. It is relived throughout the year in very small moments, catching me off guard at unexpected times.
But not today. I knew this day was coming and yet still, I could not prepare myself. I remember the fear, the uncertainty, the crazy mad amount of love I had for this unborn child who needed teams of doctors and the God given gift of a heart surgeons hands, in order to survive.
On this eve four years ago, I began pleading to God –
“Please Lord, keep him safe. Please Lord, let me live to see him, to hold him, to kiss him…even if just once. Take me if you must, but please, let him live.”
It’s long past his bedtime as I sit here on this couch…my most precious joy deep in slumber upon my lap. His position now shifted, his head resting at my heart, I cannot bear to move. I study every feature, lightly brush his soft brows, his small hand that was once so busy at play today, now rests on my chest.
And I raise my own hands in thanks to God…He is safe…I am here…holding him, kissing him. Rest in sweetest slumber, my precious baby boy.