Today, I have no idea when he woke up. At 11:30 I finally opened his door and he was wide awake, laying silently in bed. I decided to just see how the day went and decide if/when he needed to nap.
He didn't nap.
No big deal.
But come bedtime, it was meltdown central. I finally scooped him up in my arms and carried him upstairs to his room as he screamed in my ear. I changed his diaper as he continued screaming, then cradled him in my arms again.
With the lights off and a soft melody playing on the CD player, I swayed to calm him down as he gazed at his lava lamp, falling silent.
As I stood there, swaying in rhythm with the song, I couldn't help but peer at his small body, his head resting firmly against my bicep, his eyes transfixed on the lamp. His hands were wrapped, one behind me and one around my front. His long, slender legs dangled freely over my arm to my right side.
While his eyes grew heavy, the stress of our last few days seemed to melt away.
The words to the book "I'll Love You Forever" came over me, and slight chills ran through my body.
I looked again at my sin's eyes, now closed- his dark, full eyelashes softly touching above his cheek. He seemed so small, yet he seemed so large. I cannot believe that it has been over 28 months since he arrived, screaming, into our world.
And then, all I could see was my baby boy. The miracle we hoped for... prayed for... fought for... and were blessed with after 3 years of marriage.
I laid him in his bed and gently stroked his brow, seeing more of his daddy's features in him than my own as he nestled into his pillow.
I noticed then I had tears in my eyes, kissed him softly, and crawled out of his room whispering, "I love you, baby boy."
And now, I sit on the couch watching Collin grow weary, and prepare myself for another quiet moment with our second miracle, our other baby, our other blessing.
I wish I could pause time, just for a while.