While I was pregnant I had these ideas in my head of certain moments, these particular instances that I daydreamed about again and again. I thought about bringing our baby home from the hospital on that very first day, I imagined what it would be like to hold him in my arms and rock him to sleep, I thought a lot about reading books and singing songs and just looking down at that tiny face I hadn't yet met. There were so many little dreams- dreams of first laughs, first steps, and even just visions of simple, quiet moments.
But daydreams and preconceived notions aside, nothing prepares you for those moments actually coming to life. The sheer beauty and magnitude of the feelings that overwhelm you when you do hear your baby laugh for the first time, the excitement of seeing those first steps, the first words, the feel of the peaceful, dim room as you rock your baby to sleep, putting him to bed, in disbelief that you could ever love him more...and that daily surprise as you wake to that sunshine-face the next morning and found that your heart has somehow doubled in size overnight, again (and again and again).
The other afternoon Hank and I went into Henry's room to check on him. It was the end of his nap and he was sleeping so soundly, curled up with his bum in the air, mouth open. Hank and I stared down at him, smack dab in the middle of one of those little moments in life that you know will always be something special to you, the kind you try so hard to file away in your mind. There he was, our sleeping Henry, half of me and half of Hank, a perfect mix of us both. And I thought about how somehow in this crazy universe, two people from two different places were in the same place at the same time, fell in love and had a baby. And now, almost eight years after that first summer date there we were, looking down at our son as he slept. It one of those times as a parent that you do daydream about - one of those times I absolutely envisioned the moment I got pregnant- and there we were in its reality, reveling in its beautiful simplicity, whispering, "we made this, this is our son." And so I pressed pause for just a second, taking it all in, thinking about how crazy it was to be right here in Henry's room, living this little dream I had always wished for.
