Within arms reach.

Today was our march. It was cold. It was raining. I decided a few weeks ago I wasn't going to walk the whole walk. I knew my body couldn't take it at 36 weeks. And I was right. Aside from the weather I would have been miserable. So I came before the walking started to thank my team for coming and braving the elements all for my Henry. I wore his bracelet around my ring finger and snapped some photos of the event.

Where we were standing it was hard to hear the speakers during the opening ceremony. As I walked through the crowd to get closer and take some photos, I heard them recognizing the top family teams from last year. As I heard them say Team HPB was the top family team, I didn't cheer or shout as other teams had. With my camera to my eye I pretended to take photos as the tears came. I stood in the crowd of strangers trying not to be a complete mess and so proud. Proud that my sweet boy who never breathed a breath of life was the reason over $8,000 was raised last year and almost $6,000 this year. Proud that since he came into our lives, he has pushed us to raise almost $20,000 for the March of Dimes. Maybe it was partly due to pregnancy hormones. Maybe it was tears of exhaustion which come frequently these days. Maybe.

But maybe it was the fact that it caught me off guard. Maybe that I was standing alone. I tend to prefer it that way. Dealing with life while standing alone, knowing my support only a few steps away if I needed it. Stubbornly resisting the urge to ask for help and pushing myself to be strong. Stronger. Strongest. I know that might be incredibly frustrating to my friends and family. But that's me.

As Sam has settled into the new house, he has slowly gone back to his normal independent ways. It took a few weeks, but he will now go to the playroom by himself. He will bring Daisy upstairs with him and color me a picture while I'm downstairs doing something else. He will bring the picture to the upstairs area that opens to the landing hold it up with a big smile while I tell him how great if is and how we will hang it up for Dada to see when he gets home from work. The independence upstairs lasts a few minutes then he is ready to come downstairs to me again. He prefers me at arms reach most of the time so his moments of bravery are bittersweet for me. I'm proud of him and his growth. And I'll hold a little tighter when I can knowing he is becoming my sweet and determined little boy. Who happens to be very good with his drawings. Or is it "markerings" when you use those fat markets that only color on the special paper? Oh well, you get it.

As I was thinking about the day tonight, I moved our Moses basket and rocking stand into our bedroom. Booger will be here in (likely) less than 4 weeks. And while Sam is venturing slowly further from my reach, I know Booger is going to need me close. And, surprisingly, I find myself needing him close already. Needing to be his support. Needing to be able to calm his cries or fill his tummy or wrap him tightly in a snuggle. Although I still have a sense of terror when I think about life with 2 boys, that feeling of being needed provides me comfort and soothes the fears just a little bit.

The day where I hold him for the first time is also within arms reach. And knowing that provides me a tiny bit more healing. The Henry wound on my heart patched a bit more by Booger just as it was by Sam over two years ago.

So maybe that's why the unexpected tears came today as I heard our recognition. Knowing I am still healing. Knowing I still remember. Knowing everything that makes my heart as whole as it will ever be is right at my finger tips. And knowing I need to reach out and hug it all very tightly. And not let go.