Grateful

It's been a whirlwind three days for me. I found out on Wednesday evening that a client needed me to be in Utah on Friday morning, and I already had a trip to Cleveland scheduled for Thursday. Jason was a trooper and took on full Zach duty for two days while I jetted around the country. My meeting on Friday ended early, and I was able to get to the Salt Lake Airport just in time to catch the last flight home (after running through the terminal in a jacket and boots with 3-inch heels, to the gate which of course was at the furthest point in the terminal from the check-in counter). If I had missed that flight, I would not have gotten home until 5 p.m. today. I arrived home at midnight (after counting down the minutes till touch down while on the plane and then waiting 40 minutes to get my bag) and was up again at 4:30 when Zach awoke and refused to go back to sleep after he realized I was home. He wouldn't even let me put him down so that I could retrieve his binky from where he had dropped it behind the crib. The feeling of your baby's arms clinging to your neck is a great feeling, even at 4:30 in the morning. And it made me think again about how lucky I am.

I've been thinking a lot about that lately. Zach and I went to the park this afternoon to play on the swings. A dad was pushing his 2 1/2 year old little girl on the swing next to us, and we got to talking. He told me that he and his wife had adopted precious Emma from the Philippines a year ago, after waiting for three years to get approval to bring a baby home. We had a much easier road when it came to Zach -- we said we would start trying after our Christmas trip to Jamaica, and I found out I was pregnant right before New Years.

I'm a big worrier, especially about things I can't control, so I kept waiting for something to happen during the pregnancy. And nothing really did. I had no morning sickness, didn't gain too much weight, and passed all of my tests with flying colors. The closest I came to having a problem was right at the end when my blood pressure shot up 40 points in a week (which I think was entirely work-related). It went back down again a week before Zach was born, and both Zach and I had no ill effects from it. While Zach was born by c-section, he was in perfect health, and I was up and around again within a week.

I'm not ashamed to say that, since the beginning, I have checked multiple times each night to make sure Zach is still breathing (again, waiting for something to happen). I remember driving my mother to the airport following her week-long post-birth visit and being paranoid the whole way back from BWI because there was no one in the back seat to make sure that Zach didn't slump and suffocate himself. I realized early on that he is such a precious gift, and I would do anything in the world to protect him. So many things could have gone wrong at any point in time, and we have been blessed that nothing has. We're still waiting on the results of the hip x-rays, so maybe that will be the time that our "something happens." Or maybe (and hopefully) not.

As I sit at night rocking Zach to sleep (yes, I still rock him to sleep, even though all the sleep experts say not to do that), I whisper things in his ear that will forever remain between me and him. It is my favorite time of day, and I treasure those moments. I know I'm really lucky, and for that I'll forever be grateful.