Letter to My Son.

I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here

And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest

What if I'd been born fifty years before you
In a house on a street where you lived?
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike
Would I know?

And in a white sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize
And I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you...

... I know we belong.

(The Luckiest, Ben Folds)

Lessons in Gratitude

Amidst spending my days tucked away in the NICU, I've had lots of ... time.

Time to reflect. Time to move on. Time to close doors. Time to mend hearts.

I count my blessings as Landon and I rock back and forth. I count them when his long fingers curl around one of mine. I count them when he grunts and complains about being unwrapped from his snuggly bed. I count then when he drinks half an ounce from his bottle. I count them when I tuck him back in and say goodnight. I even count them when I am battling the sick feeling leaving him there... because, I know I can come back tomorrow. And he will still be waiting.

It's an easy place to be thankful. An easy place to find gratitude for all the small things. In light of all my personal drama ... our tiny roommate was born at 27 weeks. Her dad doesn't speak english. And so I remind myself.. my problems? They aren't so much.

God prepares you for things. I think Landon and I needed this time. These quiet moments of dozing off together in the NICU rocking chairs... these days of missing him so much my heart aches. And Landon? He's already an fighter. Strong. Brave. Amazing.

So we wait. Time is our friend.

In more ways than one, time heals everything.