Adventures in love

Love is a word that we throw around with not much thought about what it can mean to another person. Loving a a child in the way of being a parent is more overwhelming then any love I have ever felt. Without a shadow of a doubt I love my family and my husband, yet somehow this feels much different. It is truly perfect and terrifying to have this sense of concern, happiness and hope for a little person.

On Friday morning we picked up little guy and drove back home. I think in some ways we were both nervous because we wanted him to be comfortable and enjoy his time home with us. Auntie T called and was ready for us to make it home so that she and Q could come over and meet him for the first time. I hoped the dogs did not drive him insane and that he would like his room. Instantly he burst into the house and was immediately comfortable. He loved his room and the cars stuff that we had picked out from the store with him the Saturday before.

We all settled in and took it pretty easy for the weekend. Playing at the park, going to the store, cooking dinner and all of the normal stuff that a family does. That is when it clicked with me, we were doing the normal stuff. Being a family felt right. Watching my husband respond to someone yelling Daddy to play, melted my heart in a million different ways.

Yesterday we had to take him back in the morning and it about ripped my heart out of my chest. We kept happy faces and did everything possible to make it a happy pass off. Everyone is trying to be encouraging and remind us that he will be home soon. The closest that I can explain is that imagine that you go to the hospital, give birth, spend three day and then are told you need to leave and can come back and do the same in four days. It hurts. We are doing our very to make this transition home to be everything it should and to pace.
Praying for an early move home. Not being a family during the 4 days of the middle of the week is hard, but we are remembering that we are a family.