|4 days old|
Even if it were not my intention, I would quite likely be taking my healthy child for granted, making the minor complaints that I've commonly heard from those with a newborn. I probably wouldn't have stopped to take notice of each kick and movement like I did when I was pregnant, and probably would have been lamenting my sore hips a whole lot more.
But when you get news like we did, it cannot help but change the eyes through which you view not only your experience, but everything around it. Suddenly, everything I had been so worried about before seemed impossibly small. I could not even remember what many of those things were.
Before Ewan was even conceived, it was most definitely the case that he was wanted and deeply loved. We made every possible preparation we could to ensure a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby. And what we learned was that what happened with Ewan's heart was entirely out of our control -- and I mean entirely, determined by the two cells that came together to make a new little person. There was not a single thing we did to cause it, nor anything we could have done to prevent it or make it better.
This is comforting.
There is nothing we did to cause this, it didn't happen because of something harmful or wrong that we did.
This is aggravating.
There is nothing we could have done to prevent or change this, and nothing we can do to ensure it doesn't happen again.
This is completely humbling.
We really have no control over any of it.
These are painful lessons, and it kills me that it takes something like this to get me to pay attention and to stop fretting over whatever those piddly little nothings were that were so terribly irksome before. When I looked into those blue eyes of his, I saw wisdom and beauty and love and everything that matters in life, telling me
This is now. Soak it in. Don't miss it, not a single breath or heartbeat.
Those eyes will be teaching me for the rest of my life. I don't want to miss it: not a single breath or heartbeat.