Longtime readers of Wandering Amylessly surely remember the story of Little Will, the 1 pound-ish baby of friends of ours who was born too soon due to health complications with Mom (that, we learned later, could have stolen her away from us, too) and was with us only a few short months.
I think about Will a lot, usually when other friends tell us they're expecting or let us know when their healthy babies arrive. I think about him because I realize how quickly things can go a different way, how all those hopes and dreams and expectations -- born with a positive pregnancy test of people who so desperately want to see the plus -- can turn to uncertainty, despair and loss.
When I think of Will, I hug my own boy. Lucky doesn't begin to describe it. Sure, all kids can be challenging and nerve-wracking, and don't get me wrong, when Henry argues or sticks out his tongue at me or hauls off and whacks me occasionally, I don't let it slide. I don't know which is getting more worn out -- the time-out chair or Henry's butt from sitting there. But I also don't forget that life could have gone very differently, or not at all.
About two years ago, Will became big brother-in-spirit to Edward...who was born a few weeks early but thrived, with his little bald head and big blue eyes. I can safely say everyone who knew our friends let out a giant sigh of relief and whoop of joy. He goes to the same preschool as H now, and I love peeking through the window to his room every day -- just to look at him. Just to be thankful.
We did a little more whooping and hollering last week when Will and Ed both became big brothers to Daniel Martin. He was early -- but docs planned it that way to make sure Mom was in great health -- and you'd never know it to look at his pictures. He was over 7 pounds, with beautiful chubby cheeks and a head of blonde hair.
We ran into Dad this morning, dropping off Ed at preschool, and he noted how "exciting" juggling two kids can be. They planned to tackle two-on-one parenting for a while with Ed at school. I thought wistfully for a moment about how that was a lesson they should have been able to learn the last time around, how Will should've been able to sit in a chair and have his picture taken with Ed gently propped in his lap -- the same as we'd seen Ed do in his photos over the weekend.
The melancholy was fleeting, though, as I returned home and pulled out the blanket I've been knitting for Daniel. I need to finish it and get it to them before the big boy outgrows it!
Even if he did, I wouldn't mind a bit.
I think about Will a lot, usually when other friends tell us they're expecting or let us know when their healthy babies arrive. I think about him because I realize how quickly things can go a different way, how all those hopes and dreams and expectations -- born with a positive pregnancy test of people who so desperately want to see the plus -- can turn to uncertainty, despair and loss.
When I think of Will, I hug my own boy. Lucky doesn't begin to describe it. Sure, all kids can be challenging and nerve-wracking, and don't get me wrong, when Henry argues or sticks out his tongue at me or hauls off and whacks me occasionally, I don't let it slide. I don't know which is getting more worn out -- the time-out chair or Henry's butt from sitting there. But I also don't forget that life could have gone very differently, or not at all.
About two years ago, Will became big brother-in-spirit to Edward...who was born a few weeks early but thrived, with his little bald head and big blue eyes. I can safely say everyone who knew our friends let out a giant sigh of relief and whoop of joy. He goes to the same preschool as H now, and I love peeking through the window to his room every day -- just to look at him. Just to be thankful.
We did a little more whooping and hollering last week when Will and Ed both became big brothers to Daniel Martin. He was early -- but docs planned it that way to make sure Mom was in great health -- and you'd never know it to look at his pictures. He was over 7 pounds, with beautiful chubby cheeks and a head of blonde hair.
We ran into Dad this morning, dropping off Ed at preschool, and he noted how "exciting" juggling two kids can be. They planned to tackle two-on-one parenting for a while with Ed at school. I thought wistfully for a moment about how that was a lesson they should have been able to learn the last time around, how Will should've been able to sit in a chair and have his picture taken with Ed gently propped in his lap -- the same as we'd seen Ed do in his photos over the weekend.
The melancholy was fleeting, though, as I returned home and pulled out the blanket I've been knitting for Daniel. I need to finish it and get it to them before the big boy outgrows it!
Even if he did, I wouldn't mind a bit.
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