Your cheeks are flush and you feel like a little heater against my skin. I put you down knowing it's going to be a long night.
My heart is heavy with news of a mommy who had to return her baby to Jesus. She had to witness her only son go through unthinkable pain and yet I lay here with three happy, healthy boys just down the hall.
Not an hour passed and I hear your cry. The usual reassurance and tucking you in just wasn't working this time. I cuddle your body next to mine as you share my pillow. Your tired hands gently rub your soft blanket against your face. You're back to sleep but my finger continues to rub your shoulder and down the side of your back.
My mind goes back to that mommy who held her son as he took his last peaceful breaths. I don't know why, but I tried to imagine just what that would feel like. What must she have felt?
Quickly I learned that pain wasn't for me. My heart breaks for her but I couldn't quite shed a tear. In a way I feel the guilt. Then quickly praise God that He hasn't given that to me. I pray that the pain she feels is never meant for me. That He protects my heart. I praise God that I got a day full of family; laughter, slow, wobbly, and concentrated steps meant just for me, of kisses and hugs, of peek-a-boos and where are yous. A day of can we cuddle, will you carry mes and I love yous. A day with daddy and sons.
It was a long night, one that I'm sure we will still be trying to recover from all week, but it was another night that I praise God for as He continues to let me keep my sons.
I also pray for that family who lost this amazing child and for every parent out there that has felt this pain.