Last night, I watch Demon Baby sleep. It's just about the ONLY time he is still. He looks so serene. So wonderfully peaceful. So angelic.
And as I leaned over the crib, I remembered leaning over another crib. When he was first born. Because Demon Baby spent ten days in an incubator, he was intubated for a few days after he was born, and I wasn't allowed to hold him for a week. So all I could do was lean over and touch his little fingers and toes. And sob.
It's amazing, really, when I think about it. He came out and needed help, and now he's fearlessly racing his way through life.
And when I want to rip my hair out, when I have had about all I can take . . . I need only think back to the incubator, to the tubes, and remember when I just wanted to hold him. Just have him in my arms.
Of course, I couldn't have known then, from that teeny little baby, that today he would be putting cereal in the fish tank, and licking the dog on its nose, and deciding that nudity is the best way to go through life. Back then, he was just my little helpless guy.
Today I am grateful.