I've spent a lot of time this week staring at Gabe.
I'm certain I've memorized every curve of his face, the pace of his breathes. He may not have grown inside of me and we may not share one stitch of DNA, but if you try to convince me this love is any different then if we did, I'd have to call you a liar. This love is fierce and the last 12 days watching him fight back from the depths of heart surgery has only intensified that love.
This child is like, a super hero. I'm in awe of him.
After my brother's diagnosis, followed shortly with my Dad's, I had this shift in perspective.
I've tried to feel each moment, find the beauty in it. I've been so grateful for each day I'm given and just overall happy, even when there was plenty of reason to not be.
But this week, sitting next to my son whose chest is literally sewn shut, I'm seeing how infinitely amazing life is. Breathing in and out. Walking, talking, seeing. I know I'm sleep deprived, but y'all, I feel like a veil was lifted and I can see the miracles in all the tiny moments.
This isn't easy.
In fact, it sucks and is really scary most of the time. But I'm getting to be here. Next to Gabe. He had another open heart surgery 3 and 1/2 years ago and laid in this bed alone. No mother to rub his head, no father to gently lift him out of the bed. Who asked him to take a drink for the 8 millionth time? Who held his hand while he was poked again and again?
I hate that we weren't there for him then, but I love that I get to be from now until forever.