6:30 in the morning

As I left William's room tonight at 9:40 after putting him to bed (yes, much past bedtime), I found myself hoping he would not cry but let me sleep past 6:30 tomorrow morning. And then it hit me, two years ago at 5:58 in the morning, all I wanted was to hear my baby cry, but I didn't. I was shown my baby from a distance, with a nurse saying, "Here is your baby," before he was whisked away to have the meconium sucked from his mouth and lungs and then sent to NICU where I wasn't able to even meet him for a few hours. What a gift to remember that cry truly is a blessing.