Promises.

In the fleeting moments before I was overcome by sleep last night I thought about Ryan and his fifth birthday. It's this Sunday. It is hard to believe that he'll be five, but then again it is not. There are days when it feels as if he has been with us all along.

Rourk and I were married nine year before we had Ryan. We had nine years for vacations and uninterrupted dinners and nights of fitful sleep. We were ready (or so we thought) for parenting. I am thankful for that time and I believe it helped us cope with years of infertility treatment, recurrent miscarriages and the birth of a child with special needs.

Before drifting off to sleep I also thought about being tired and about how weary I get being a parent. I'd be lying if I told you that I don't get tired of picking up toys that are scattered all over the house, or that I enjoy listening to my children pitch a fit over who is going to carry the salt shaker to table. There are days when I feel like all I do is bend over to pick things up, break up arguments and clean up messes.

But I also thought about the miracle of birth and the blessings Ryan and Lilly have brought to my life. I thought about promises and the pleas I made to God during those endless days of infertility and miscarriages. Promises to be a better person and pleas for a seamless pregnancy and a baby at the end.

I was given two seamless pregnancies, one more than I ever dreamed of having. In return for them I could always do better at keeping up my end of the bargain. I am working on adding more joy to my parenting during the hard times. I am trying to remind myself each day to be thankful for the good and the bad that comes with raising two small children. I am trying to see tiny hand prints in messes that they make and remember that one day I'll miss the hands that created them.