Small Miracles

I am often tempted to dwell on the little annoyances of being pregnant these days. After all, this time around, it's less new and I'm a bit older and heavier. Plus I'm chasing after Jack all the time, so I just feel like a hefty pregger.

BUT

I have been blessed lately with such a powerful love for my family, experienced through small events. Actually I'm tearing up as I write this. As I've been reading and watching TV, I've come across stories of those who have lost their loved ones, or who nearly lost their children to illness. And I'm just SO grateful for any amount of time I have with my boys (Evan, Jack and New Baby).

Each day there are small miracles of existence. When I kiss the curve of Jack's soft, chubby cheeks, and then he looks at me with his wide, innocent eyes and gives me a big "muh-whah" kiss on my own cheek. Or when I tousle his downy, white-blonde hair. I told Evan the other day that it melts my heart when I get Jack out of the car and he starts to run off, but then turns back and reaches his hand up, waiting for me to hold it and guide him in safety to our destination. How many more times in my life will I get this pleasure? How long will he trust and need me this way? So I just hold on, squeeze his little paw and drink in the moment like nectar.

When Evan is home, it is such a joy to see our little family together. Jack runs to greet his Daddy at the door, and Evan scoops him up in a hug, then tosses him in the air as Jack explodes into giggles. Later, when Jack is asleep, Evan and I sometimes hold each other and marvel at our fortune.

I remember telling people when I was single that I probably wanted to have kids, but that I wasn't sure. That I'd have one and see if I liked it. The simple domestic harmonies didn't seem as real to me as other things, like travel, adventure and achievement. Those things are still appealing. But these days, I'm thankful every single day for moments that make my heart sing the praises of God and Nature.