My babies are getting older. My son just turned 11 in March. In two SHORT years he'll be a teen-ager. I remember visiting him in the NICU at Arnold Palmer and holding my 3 pound, 7 ounce little baby. Now he's as tall as me and getting smarter everyday. Lately he and I have been butting heads, so to speak. I expect perfection (though I'd never tell him that) and he expects me to WAIT on him and allow him to move in his own time. Therefore, we both seem to have plenty to say and not much desire to listen to the other. Nonetheless, he's my oldest baby and I will love him forever - no matter what.
My youngest baby is getting ready to turn 2 next Month. I remember 3 years ago sadly working on facing the reality that we probably couldn't have more children. I remember praying MANY times a day for God to help me to realize that His plan was the only plan and for me to accept whatever He decided. It was about the time that I felt like I was truly getting better at this acceptance that we found out we had a "Peyton" on the way. It was just yesterday I was holding her in the hospital and thanking God th
at no one was going to wisk her away from me (like I had watched Connor being taken to the NICU). Now she toils around the house carrying purses, changing clothes every time she sees some and telling me what she wants to do. No matter how old they get, how tall they get or how smart they get, they'll always be my babies. Connor rolls his eyes every time I say this, but my sweet baby girl will say "Mommy" when I ask who's baby she is. (Of course, she says "Daddy" when he asks, but who's counting??)God gave them to me and for that I will be eternally grateful and never able to fully thank Him. I pray that when I get to Heaven, God looks at my children and says "Good job." I also pray that when we all get to Heaven, Connor and Peyton see Nana Donlon and Papa Macey waiting at the gates for them.
