380 A Tiny Dream of Hope

(Winona)

Henry’s soft whimpers stir me from my thoughts, anchoring me back to the present. The kids will be almost finished with their chores.

I cross the room to his crib, our walk-in wardrobe converted into a makeshift nursery, and lean over to scoop him up. His little face scrunches, his eyes barely opening as he lets out a sleepy cry, his tiny fists waving aimlessly in the air.

“Hey, sweet boy,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead as I cradle him close. His soft baby scent fills me, warm and comforting. I hold him tighter, feeling a surge of emotion rise inside me.

Despite everything Henry’s been through, he’s here, healthy and full of life, and I still find myself amazed by the strength this tiny boy has shown. Delivered by Caesarian at 25 weeks, he spent those first days so fragile, connected to machines and tubes.

Maybe that’s all I need, to get to that point in the gestation. But even that is a pipe dream. But I wonder how far along I am already?

I kiss Henry on the che