I sat in a hospital bed, used to the routine, grateful we had passed our goal of 32 weeks and looking ahead to our next goal of 34 weeks. I could feel a little prince kicking me from the inside and I wondered how big he would be, wondering if he would cry, wondering how delivery would go.
By August 1 of 2007, I was 59 days into my hospital stay, I had spent my 25th birthday in the hospital, the birthdays of family and friends, father's day, a season of Sopranos and had settled into my hospital routine. I had met with doctors, had ultrasounds, met the NICU team, met the anesthesiologists, had my daily 15 min wheelchair rides, had my daily 5 minute showers, lost any hint of a tan, and was less than a week away from my wedding anniversary. Dusty had already spent 59 days running between me and Kaitlyn and work and sleeping on a fold out bed every night. Kaitlyn lived between grandparents and had short visits with me everyday. I memorized everything the cafeteria had to offer and all the extensions in the hospital. I was thankful for the internet. I missed my life. But, I wanted that little boy more than he could ever know or dream of.
Little did I know that only 5 days later he would be born. He would cry. He would be absolutely beautiful. He would come home 27 days after that. He would be ours. He would be loved. He would have the strongest cry. We would have our son. He would be in our arms. He would be spoiled. He would be held as much as he wanted. He would have a doting big sister. He would be amazing. He would have dark brown hair and eyes that just didn't know what color they wanted to be yet.
I would do it all over again for just one more day with him. Just one more chance to kiss his super soft cheeks, to nuzzle him into my chest, to whisper to him how much we love him, to hear his cry, to see him want to smile, to change his teeny tiny diaper, anything in the world for just one more chance to have a moment with him.
This Saturday, Matthew turns 4. And we will celebrate his life and the miracle that he was with a balloon release. We will be surrounded by loved ones as balloons soar through the sky.
We miss you so much little one.