It Doesn't Go Completely Away

When Munchkin was born, I envisioned myself thinking about his dramatic arrival every day.  I thought I would thank God every second of every day for this little miracle and kissing the ground he walks on.

Don't get me wrong, I'm completely obsessed with my son and he amazes me every single day.  But I get burned out just like any normal parent does.  I get frustrated when he just throws his food on the ground over and over and refuses to eat or irritated when he just will..not...go...to....sleep.  I don't think about the trauma of the his birth all day every day, but I do recognize things every day that make me even more proud of how far he's come.

The fact that he can stand up in the middle of the living room and walk to get a popsicle.  The fact that he can even ask for a popsicle.  When I ask him what he does when he's happy and he gives me the cheesiest smile ever.

But we go on with our lives too.  In many ways we're just like any normal family of three.

Every once in awhile it hits me hard just how lucky we are and how hard Munchkin has worked to be "normal".  A few nights ago I was editing a video I made of Munchkin's NICU stay and somehow I had forgotten just how little and helpless he looked and just how hard he fought.

When I checked on him before I headed to bed he was peacefully sleeping with his hands above his head like he normally does.  It hit me like a ton of bricks; I could've lost him.  He woke up when he heard the floorboards creek and I picked him up to rock him back to sleep.

The smell of him, the heat of his body and the weight of him on my chest choked me up.  It brought back the memories of Kangaroo Care and just how small he felt. The first time I held him he was barely a foot long, less when he was curled up, tucked up under my chin.  Holding him that night, so warm and peaceful, he lays on my chest but he reaches all the way down my torso, almost to my knees at 35 inches long.  I lost it.  I spent 45 minutes rocking my sleeping toddler, tears streaming down my face.

No matter how long it's been, I'm still completely grateful for this little miracle man and am constantly in awe of how far he's come.  My son is my hero.