Memories and Miracles

I wrote this last fall...

I’m trying to catch 15 extra minutes of shut eye after our morning nursing session. Benjamin is sitting happily in his baby seat in the office with Daddy. As I lie in bed, sleep eludes me while memories sweep through my mind at a rapid rate. For no rhyme or reason I am escorted back to May 2009. I remember the unexpected and frightening C-section, hearing the first piercing cries of my newborn son, and the shock and fear when he was rushed to the NICU instead of being brought to me. I remember my first glimpse of my baby four hours later, hooked up to a ventilator and monitors, his skin an unnatural ashy color. The doctor had already told us she suspected Down syndrome and kept saying, “He’s a very sick little boy.” I remember when I finally got to hold my son nine days later, though he was still a tangle of tubes and wires. I remember the day of his longed-for homecoming when he was a month old, and the nurse’s parting comment “He truly is a miracle. Most of us didn’t expect him to still be here.” I remember the short-lived month at home before Benjamin was back in the hospital for open heart surgery and a two week recovery in the PICU…

…My memories are interrupted by the obnoxious beeping of my alarm clock, and I tell myself that it really is time to get up and start the day. I walk into the office and kneel down beside my beautiful 16-month old miracle to give him kisses. His face lights up in a huge grin. “Hello, Miracle Man!” is say as I pick him up and hold him close. Benjamin lets out a delighted squeal. We head to the living room for him to play with his favorite toys—a Leap Frog Learn & Groove Musical Table and a highlighter yellow stuffed gorilla. As I sip my coffee and watch my son eagerly playing, I am struck with the beautiful thought that every day with Benjamin is truly a miracle!