Holding Tight

I snuck into Anna's room this evening and picked her up from her crib. I sat down in the rocking chair in which I had spent so many nights following her birth, cradled her in my arms, and drank it all in. Her eyes fluttered every now and then. Her body was warm. Her little heart beat against my chest. Her nose is stuffy from teething, and every now and again she would let out a little sniffle. She sucked her pacifier so the back wiggled, ever so slightly, up and down. She smelled of milk and baby soap. She is soft and warm and sweet and alive.

And I cried. I sobbed a gut-wrenching sob. Of sorrow and joy and pain and gratefulness.

I happened upon several new "mommy blogs" as they are often termed. Blogs where moms who love their children, love to write, and love to commiserate, find one another. Up until today, most of my time blogging and reading blogs has been a hilarious adventure into the lives of women who are as lucky as I am if they get a shower every other day. I enjoy reading about their lives, their children, their struggles and bumps in the road of motherhood. But today I found myself watching online home videos, so much like my own, of a precious baby girl, Madeline Alice Spohr (http://remembermaddie.com/) who passed away unexpectedly a couple of weeks ago at just over a year old.

The pain I felt over the loss of this baby girl, not much older than my own, could never begin to compare to what this family is going through. I so often use these other "unknown" mommies to bring me laughter and shared experiences. To help me to see the humor in raising young children. But through sharing her unfathomable experience, this mother has opened my eyes once again to how fragile and precious these little lives are.

I thank her for her brevity and pray for her comfort in this dark, dark time. I know every mom who has read her experience will hold their precious ones closer tonight, as we always should. We are blessed. Beyond measure, we are blessed.