My Wish

I have for whatever reason been reminded the last few days just how far I have come in this life.  It started yesterday as I was driving around, alone which is rare, and had my i phone blaring it's downloaded songs. We all know I have a love of all things rap and r&b.  It's always been there. I find it quite impressive how the singer can get the lyrics to flow like they do and I always find the beat to be somewhat electric, it makes me smile and start to dance.  I also love, love, love country music. Odd combo, I know.  However, country music has been pushed to the wayside since we had the miscarriage and lost Tadem.  

He, by the way, would have been one year old on April 21st...

 

And I bet his birthday was far more amazing in heaven than anything I could ever have given him here...

I haven't been able to hear more than the first line of any country song without immediately switching the station because the tears instantly well. Country music strikes something within me.  I am not talking about the twangy ridiculousness that country used to be known for. I am talking Rascall Flatts "My Wish" kind of music. That song is the one I have dedicated to my boys and they each have a copy of the CD in the Mommy memory boxes that reside in their rooms.

 Listen to it, surely it will strike something deep within you. In any case, I have not been able to bring myself to listen to anything other than rap music for a long time. You see, it doesn't hurt. It makes me smile and dance and sometimes actually laugh because rap can be ridiculous. The other makes me tear up. Reminds me of where I have been. Makes me begin to ponder.  Many, many country songs hold memories for me.  The likes of trying to find myself in this world type memories.  So, I shut it out. Unable to handle the tears because life goes on and I must keep it together, but yesterday as I was driving alone, my i phone must have known I was ready because it randomly skipped to the song for my boys.  I immediately started reaching over to turn it off and stopped. I let it resonate with me.  It hurt a little only because so many feelings began to resurface and then suddenly I began to sing. Then belt it out not caring who may be beside me watching.  It felt good. It was nice to hear the words that ultimately describe life and what I want for my kids, my husband, anyone close to me and myself to appreciate about it.  Once that song was over, I listened to another one and then another. Each time singing my heart out. Grateful that I am back. It's been a long time, years actually and I missed it.  I miss the stirring of my heart strings when lyrics like " I hope you never look back, I hope you never regret and you help somebody every chance you get." 

How could you not love that...

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Today I am alone with all three boys. It's Summer. I have never had a Summer with all three of my boys.  I realized as I stood in the garage watching them splash water all over in the driveway to cool off the heat that pounds Florida this time of year, that last Summer I was doing the exact same thing, but with a Paxton in my belly.

 I was oblivious to the road ahead.  While I worried about impending miscarriage since we had just lost one, what I didn't realize then was that God had a much, much bigger plan in store for us.  A plan that literally knocked me off my feet, brought me to my knees, sobbing and begging for mercy.  He did not give in. Instead he gently kept his arm around me the entire time and showed me the way.  I was tested more than I could have ever imagined. I learned what strength really is and just how strong I really was.  Last Summer at this time as I waddled around our driveway drenched in sweat anticipating the arrival of what I thought would be our perfect little baby was when I thought I knew what perfect was.  I was so very, very wrong.  Perfect is not what we think it is. Perfect is anything but. Perfect is crying to heal, yelling to release, on bended knee to soothe. Perfect is falling down and getting up, fighting every step of the way even when you don't think you can fight anymore. Perfect is a little 18 pound boy that smiles morning, noon and night in spite of the scars that cover his chest and belly. Perfect are his big, blue eyes that show me he knows more than I even do, so wise.  Perfect is hearing his belly laugh telling me "I got this Mama".  Perfect is having three beautiful boys in my driveway this Summer. All of us sheened from sweat, splashing through the "river" of water that pools in the bend where the driveway meets the road. Smiling and laughing.  Reminding me just how far one year can bring you. 

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Once inside, all of us pruned and snuggled on the couch, the doorbell rings.  It is two packages. My heart stops. I already know what they are. I have been waiting and yet not ready at the same time. I don't know that I can explain why.  She has been a part of our journey since before Austin arrived.  She has taken all of my maternity, the boys newborn and our family pictures. By now I know the infamous red boxes.  

I have never been nervous to receive them.  I brought them in and waited for the boys to nap. I knew I would need a moment when I opened them.  They are beautiful and the story that is not yet over was shining through on the photo paper that lie in front of me.  I began to cry.  Again reminded how far we have come.  We took these photos around 3 months of age, Paxton is days shy of seven. His birth announcements and birth pictures arrived today.  For a long time, I would try to pick which ones I wanted and I couldn't. Each one seemed to hold a piece of the puzzle. Each one a different emotion.  So I would email Terrilyn and tell her that I couldn't do it just yet and she would tell me whenever I was ready. Oh' this journey. The surprises along the way never cease to sneak up on you.  The lessons ebb and flow, but always continue.  For that I am so thankful. As I sat at the kitchen table tears streaming my face over the pictures of this little man that is my son, I may have never been so thankful in all my life.  He was given to me. I was graced with his presence in my life and this journey just keeps getting better and better. These pictures were taken at a time when I spent every moment of the day worrying we would wind up back at the hospital. He was not stable. It was a blessing we were home and my days were filled with blue feet, blue lips, oxygen saturations and the likes.  I constantly worried something would go wrong.  I remember Terrilyn emailing me the photo proofs in color and black and white. She wrote in the email that the last handful of pictures were only available in black and white because he had started turning blue and there was no way to edit that in the picture.  The funny part is behind the scenes we had blankets and space heaters running in an attempt to keep that from happening, but blue he was. Today, I am different.  I worry, of course, I will always worry. I no longer fret. I no longer allow it to consume my life. Through prayer and a whole lot of help from my husband and friends I have learned that whatever is going to happen is going to happen so why not enjoy the time in between instead of worrying it away.  Thus far, God seems to have a special plan in store for Paxton and while we are unclear on his conclusion, we most certainly know that he has chosen to make him one of the strongest people we know.  He has been fighting the good fight since he made his entrance into the world. 

 Time blends things together and moments like a song playing by surprise, a driveway day or a good picture have the ability to stop you in your tracks and allow you to take stock of life, it's journey and how damn lucky you are.  

Priceless ; )

And I am damn lucky my friends. Damn lucky!