Gabriel actually took five steps this morning. He didn’t like it. But he wasn’t crying about it. I held his hand and we walked to Mommy, and then he collapsed. People, that right there made this one of the best days EVER.
I’m constantly amazed by the wonder of the little things through this process. I’ve never had so much fun playing hide-and-seek as I did when Gabriel was stationary and we had to figure out how to do it with pillows. Watching him eat, watching him learn to roll over with those heavy fiberglass pants on, watching him learn to SLEEP, even, everything was new and great.
And then I think, you know, I have eighth children, and everything they do is new and different and amazing, and I’m missing it. I’m missing the best parts of my life, because they’re free and they occasionally rub their snot on my shirts. How ridiculous.
I’d say, “no more!” and “I’ll never do that again!” but I know that’s false, and I will do it again, and those beautiful, incredible little people that inhabit my house will go back to being background noise, but I do hope and pray that again and again I’ll be brought back out of it a little more, to see the miracles that happen to me every single day.
Today is good. I see it today. Today I’m alive, and Gabriel’s walking, and the rest of it, really, doesn’t matter one bit.