Every moment is precious

My little boy has been sick. 
I am fortunate.  My world could stop.  I could spend my days cuddling and rocking and wiping his little nose and kissing his cheeks and stroking his blond hair.  For the first time in his almost-9-month life, my little son wanted his Mommy.  He chose me over everyone else.  When he knocked over a lamp last night, he crawled so very quick over to me, and got scooped up in my arms, and kissed all over his little face.
And I whispered, again, Thank you.

It is no secret among my friends and my coworkers that I have a hard time with serious pediatric calls since giving birth.  Every child looks like mine.  Every child that darts in front of a car, or slips on ice, or falls into a pool unseen while reaching for a toy--that could be my child.  Do I do my job as a paramedic?
Yes.
Do I go home and let my son stay up just a bit later and, after he's fallen asleep in my arms, do I stay up just a few more minutes and watch him sleep and marvel at the precious gift I have?
Yes. I do.

Do I sometimes whisper thank you thank you thank you?All the time.

There is another mother.  She had a little boy with blond hair.  Her little boy looked a lot like mine.  Her little boy, Matthias, though, died last December in a freak accident at home.  She is a homeschooling mom with several children, and I have long enjoyed her blog(click on the link to read it yourself).

Her little Matthias would be 2 years old on Wednesday.

Would you pray for her and her family?  Her name is Dana.  I have never met her, I don't even know where she lives.
But every time I read her blog, I hold my own blond-haired, blue-eyed son just that much closer.

Every moment is precious.