You don't get these moments back.

When I was pregnant early on with Wilson, I worried about miscarriage, or any of the heartbreaking things that could happen while he was in utero.
Since Friday, I look longingly at my precious children, and wish I could have them safe in my uterus again.
Safe from a world, where there is so much pain.
I can't protect my children from everything. As they get older, more independent, make their way out into the world, I won't be able to shield them.

The scariest thing of being a parent is knowing a literal piece of your heart is that little baby girl with those long eyelashes, and that little boy with that mischievous grin.

A part of me is them, and I don't know how I could endure if I were to lose them.

These past couple nights, I've snuggled them closer, kissed their cheeks far more than they've liked, spoiled them with treats, studied their little features, their hands, fingers, toes.

There is so much pain in this world, and in two rooms under our roof, there is infinite, wonderous beauty.

I crept into their rooms again tonight, to look at that beauty. To try to capture it.

That sweet sigh, soft breathing, hearing a gentle heart beat in one room from a noise machine, and the sound of ocean waves in another.

I know i can't fully capture it. It's beyond words, pictures, it's beyond anything I could describe.