My Pot of Gold

Your Dad is upstairs rocking you. He has no agenda, nowhere else to be except rocking you. His dinner is getting cold and he is missing his favorite show, but he isn't bothered because he is rocking you, his son. I keep making excuses to walk by your nursery so I can witness your dad agenda-free with nowhere else to be rocking you. And I am reminded of how precious the beauty of a moment can be.

The past five months have been made up of moments with you. Moments that are simply indescribable, moments that make me feel like I'm dancing on a rainbow surrounded by a field of yellow sunflowers rubbing my eyes because I don't do well with yellow sunflowers. I won the lottery with the two of you. I could be poor and carless and homeless, but if I had the two of you I would have everything I needed in life (besides a car, shelter and money).

Moments...here are a few imprinted into my brain:

• When I learned we could take you home from the hospital. I walked into your room in the NICU and your Dad said we could take you home. The frog in my throat disappeared immediately and the anxiety melted to the hospital floor. I cried happy tears in that moment. The happiest of the happy tears. This was a great moment, a spectacular moment. 
• When your Dad got to hold you the first time. You were taken from us within moments of your birth and your Dad didn't get to hold you. Here he had just learned he had a SON and he didn't even get to hold you. That night a nurse asked him if he wanted to hold you while she gave you a sponge bath. I wasn't present for this moment, but I'm thankful for that nurse who let a father hold his son for the very first time. That moment meant a lot to him. It meant the world to him.
• When we brought you home. I know several of these moments were in your first days, but I can still picture the sky the day we brought you home. It was a painting of perfection. I stared at you and at the huge cotton ball clouds and I realized this was the happiest I had ever been in life with you and your Dad bringing you home.
• When I dropped all anxiety and finally trusted my mom instinct. Having a baby in the NICU changes you. It makes you hard and it makes you scared and it makes you feel like all the little things that pop up in any given day can't add up to the big thing called life. The big fat blessing we are granted each day. I took you to visit your Grandparents and after we survived your first night away from home I woke up with a new level of confidence. I had my mom groove and nothing was going to get in my way. Something inside me changed that weekend. I earned my mom card and I proudly carry it in my metaphorical wallet.
• Your laugh. This isn't one particular moment. It's a combination of moments when I drop my 20 pound purse, slip off my heels, throw off my suit jacket, put you on my lap and bounce you until your giggle fills the house, until your giggle makes me giggle. Your laugh makes me smile from my toes to the ceiling. 

Your laugh makes me run through fields of yellow sunflowers in my mind. Your laugh is the best single sound I've ever witnessed (besides our vows on our wedding day). Your laugh is my pot of gold.