Early this morning, around 6AM, I crept into Jackson's room for his very-early-morning feeding and after he released his latch, satisfied and softly sighing, I rocked him in my arms for a little while before putting him back in his crib for the remainder of his "nighttime" sleep. I studied his face, his breathing, his fine blonde hair, the quiet noises he makes when he's dreaming. And I wept. I thought about so many things I've been through in my life, many of them awful and inexplicable, and how I've survived. I thought about the roads less traveled, the opportunities taken and passed upon, the sacrifices and the choices. They have all led me to him. To this beautiful, perfect, round cherub-faced boy. KB and I are lucky beyond measure. Just a few days ago, we were standing over Jackson's crib watching him kick his crib aquarium, having figured out how to turn it on and off with a foot or a fist, and laughing over what a clever boy he is. And KB turned to me and said, pointing at our son, "You did good."
And so today, I contemplate what is important, and I thank every atom of the universe for my family. To get to here, I would endure it all over again. For the first time in my life, I know where I belong.