My heart beat.
He makes me laugh every day. It's hard to believe that just a few short months ago I was crying in frustration over this child. A newborn who wouldn't sleep anywhere other than his swing. A babe who wouldn't be soothed by anyone other than his Momma. A little guy who, it seemed at the time, loved crying more than anything else in the world. In those fleeting moments, I thought for sure that this is how it was going to be for the rest of my life. I shuddered to think of a five-year-old sleeping in a baby swing. I cried out to God, evening after evening. Bone-tired from the endless walking in circles around my living room trying desperately to comfort this wailing thing in my arms. I questioned God's reasoning for giving me a child like this. I questioned my sanity in praying for a second child. My husband nodded his head as if to say, "Don't blame me!" My three-year-old cried because the baby was crying.
And I cried, too. Again.
How easy it is to lose sight of the big picture when in the throes of child-raising. Down in the gritty, gut-wrenching depths of sleeplessness and never-ending tears. Knee-deep in diapers and a baby who is still trying to learn how to nurse.
Now I've blinked and the tiny baby is gone. The crying has passed (for the most part). Smiling has taken up residence on his round little face. He's perfectly content to play with big sister or Daddy (though Mommy still has the magic touch). He sleeps for 12 hour stretches in his crib without so much as a peep.
As we near the one-year celebration of this bouncy blessing, it's easy to forget where we started. The sticker shock of a second child will fade away. I already have trouble remembering what life was like with just one. An easy one at that. I'm thankful for God's goodness in giving me two children. He knew what He was doing even if I didn't.