There are some blogs that I have been following very closely lately, written in beautiful words from women experiencing pain and heartache, all while continuing their normal lives. While their lives may be normal, they are far from mundane, and they must continue in the motions to keep their family together. Natalie from Pics and Kicks is a beautiful writer, and quite possibly experiencing one of the most tragic events in a mother's life. Very recently, her 8 week old son passed away from pertussis. Her bravery is exuded in her posts, and I can't imagine her pain.
While I am reading and following these women, I feel their pain almost as if it is my own. While I can't sympathize with their feelings, I empathize myself to tears almost every time I log on. I am trying very hard to learn from their words; enjoy every moment with my beautiful boys. One of the most beautiful, yet painful posts to read was when Natalie blogged about their Christmas pictures together before Gavin got sick. She spoke about looking at the photo, willing to go back to that moment and relish in every breath that he took.
I spend too much time focusing on the mundane of my own life - laundry, dishes, vacuuming. My boys are with me, of course, but I am not truly enjoying them. In fact, I find that I don't think about them at all when I am working around the house, rushing through the tasks in order to check them off my to-do list. I am working hard, however, to breathe in their every moment - to never forget that my blessings could be taken away in a brief blink of the eye.
As a mother, I know and remember things about my boys that most people don't realize. While Dylan's hair has a tint of red, his eyelashes are dark, long and lush. Every time he blinks, the flecks of green in his eyes glimmer and make the hue of blue deeper. His toes look exactly like mine, and I love looking at them. If he wasn't so afraid of me tickling them all of the time, I would grab his feet and hold them close to my face so that I could study each toe. One of his teeth is chipped, the casualty of a fall during his toddler years.
Cody is similar to his older brother, but yet so different. He sleeps so soundly, something I thought I would never experience with my youngest. He loves to hear laughter, and can't help but smile when someone around him giggles. He loves to touch my face and my hair, and sometimes I really feel like he is putting his face near to mine to kiss me. He too, has long eye lashes, but they are a beautiful blonde, and the peach fuzz on the top of his head matches them perfectly.
These are the things I want to remember. I want to remember the first time Dylan told me a story filled with emotion from his day at Norma's. I want to remember the first time Cody ate cereal, and scrunched his nose, unfamiliar with the new consistency in his mouth. I want to remember the excitement and uncertainty of bringing Dylan home from the hospital, and I want to remember the first time we introduced our first born to his little brother. I want to remember the look on their face after waking from a good night's sleep. I want to remember the sound of Cody's laugh when Dylan tickles him.
I am lucky. Luckier than I ever imagined. This luck is definitely not anything that I deserved. Maybe it's not luck - they are gifts straight from God.