As I wrapped my arms around my almost nine-year-old son, I was overcome and flooded with memories. This boy. Folded in my love had hijacked my heart from the day he was born.

In this instant, for the first time in too many years to remember, he allowed me to lay with him while he dozed off to sleep. I couldn’t help but reflect on the many years of worry and pain leading to this; the arduous journey we had taken, and now the feel of his skin, like fine silk.

Quietly…I paused. The sound of his gentle breath transported me back to his little life, as an infant, and the beginning of this long and winding road.
Sometimes with little grace and too often with filled with angst, we traveled down and through this path unknown.

At times we faced judgment from those we expected to love us the most. Receiving unsolicited advice, we felt almost patronized by the lack of understanding of the gravity of our situation. But, like most storms, there also came rainbows. We experienced beauty and love in unexpected places; we were shown empathy and kindness.

In the stillness of the night, tears flooding down my face, I gently smiled. I praised God. I was here, not only imagining the dreams but knowing they could come to fruition.

All wrapped up, his arms in mine.