6 weeks.

we have a sweet little six week old boy.  as you can imagine, our days are spent lovingly gazing at him as he sleeps peacefully on us.  when he isn't sleeping, he is contentedly breast feeding while peaceful music plays in the background.

 

 

see.  these pictures prove that our lives are blissfully peaceful right now.

unless, of course, you come during one of the millions of moments when we aren't taking pictures.  then you would see a very easy going 6 week old, sleeping amidst the chaos and noise of two big sisters.  or you might catch a glimpse of one of his sisters (who will go unnamed) patting his head much too roughly while I try to breastfeed him.  the same sister also likes to climb onto the couch (a newly acquired skill) and then attempt to get down by any means possible, leaving me diving across the couch multiple times a day with a tiny in my hands.
yes, the small snapshots of our lives are nothing at all like our realities.  and, they do nothing at all to capture the out of control noise levels in our home.  somehow, with the third child, I am much more realistic.  while I do sometimes hold him and just stare at him, my thoughts during that time aren't the sweet sentimental thoughts I often had the first couple of times. instead, I confess to him my short comings 'hey buddy, mama is going to get frustrated with you some day.  mama might even yell.  i'm sorry.  i know i fall short.  but, i love you something fierce, and I promise to do my best to be patient and kind.  just know, you were born into an imperfect family.  as a result, you will learn quickly about saying sorry and forgiveness.'   he never seems phased by this. 

we are adjusting to life with three here.  it hasn't been easy.  it hasn't been hard.  it has just, been.  i'm thankful every day that God chose to give us a son.  it would not have been our timing for things, but, at the end of the night, after putting the high energy, boisterous big and little to bed, there's something redemptive in staring at tiny while he sleeps.  

love.

i can handle seizures like a pro.  when my big spikes a fever of 105 (which isn't completely uncommon when she is sick), i know ibuprofen and thirty minutes will work wonders.
but my little with a fever strikes fear in my heart like little else can.  there's words that dance around in there. taunting me.  

down syndrome.  somethings that isn't that big of a deal for us.  an extra copy of her twenty first chromosome. there are these things though.  these 'more likely' things that come along with that extra copy.  and those are the words that live in the recesses of my mind.
that is, until i pick her up, and she's warm. feverish warm.  and then they sprint forward causing my heart to beat faster, and my memory to remind me just how close we have come to loosing her.  they carry with them names of other brave warriors.

sometimes i hold her, and a song comes on, and i'm reminded how it was a song i had planned to use for her funeral.  because i thought there would be one.  and i thank God, over and over that there wasn't.  and then i pray, and beg, that He would let me raise both of my girls.  i love them.  i love being with them.  there is joy in there being.
so i rock little.  tears fall down my cheeks. they are being bottled, like so many before.  how is it, that i can love one so much?  

 
and i know, without a shadow of a doubt, that i would do it all again.  no matter how hard one tries, you will fall.  hard.  deep.  and you will allow your heart to get broken, if need be. love never fails.