baby bits.

So I was folding clothes (that the hubs so wonderfully washed and dried
for me) this afternoon, when I suddenly came across these: {the hubs had dug the few baby items we’d actually kept
out of boxes and washed them without my knowing it}

And man did I cry.

Part of me cried because my baby is six.

Part of me cried because I was folding tiny,
sweet, baby clothes for the first time in six years.

Part of me cried even harder because Baby Bob kicked
me in the middle of all that crying and reminded me
(as if I needed reminding) that he was there, and that
22 weeks from now, he will be staring up at me with big,
wide, innocent baby eyes and donning
these precious little clothes.

Mostly, all of me just cried because I was once again
reminded that:

I am living in a miracle.
And there‘s nothing quite like living in a miracle.

Sure, I’m really sick.
And sure, this weakness and nauseous-ness,
and vomitous-ness makes me feel like a good for nothing
failure who can’t do ANYTHING for anyone most of the time,
but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’ll take everything
this pregnancy has to give me, and I’ll take it with a smile,
because I’m willing to pay the price of living in a miracle.
(And of having a miracle living in me.)

Oh, how I already love this little miracle…

{just had to include a shot of my favorite resident photo-bomber.}