Declan has been a part of our family for six weeks now.
There have been precious moments.
There have been anxiety filled moments.
There have been laugh filled moments.
There have been tear filled moments. (His, and mine)
There have been tender, love filled moments.
There have been tense, short-fuse filled moments.
There have been moments where friends and family have stood in my kitchen, leaving meals and hugs and encouragement.
There have been moments of boy – wrestling, poking, laughing, sweating, yelling, running.
Every day that I look at his face, I know I was meant to be his mama. I remember each and every pleading, prayerful word said to my heavenly father, begging for a healthy baby to bring home.
He is mine, and I am his. And every time his eyes lock with mine and a sweet little smile creeps onto his face, every scream filled minute we have endured seems to melt away and I forget the stress, the anxiety, the pure helplessness I have felt about not being able to make him feel better.
We’re figuring each other out.
This Thanksgiving week, I give thanks for my children. The crazy, rambunctious boys here in my home and the girl in heaven I never got to know. All of them make me a better person.