Last night would be described as “long” in a mom’s vocabulary. Long means there was little sleep and much consoling of your baby. And that there was. Like any sickness, and I don’t know why this happens, the slight runny nose my boy had all day yesterday settled into a deep congestion and very stuffed nose last night resulting in restlessness, coughing fits that would wake him, and a general inability to stay asleep.
So our night was full of cries for his Mama to comfort and help him fall back to sleep. And then at 2:30am my boy decided he was up. Happy and content and not needing to be comforted, but just up. So we laid side by side on the same pillow, my lips finding his cheeks every few minutes for a kiss, and we watched Murder, She Wrote together. The poor acting and outrageous 80s style kept him entertained, but every now and then he would turn his head toward me and touch my face and play with my hair.
And last night, in the midst of not getting much sleep, I felt so much love for my boy. And I felt so happy. And so content. And wanted the moment to never end. Sort of. I still wanted sleep.
But last night, as I cuddled my 5 month old son, I couldn’t help but think of the statistics told to me a few days ago. That in 2011 over 100,000 abortions were performed in New York State alone.
Over 100,000 sweet babies, just like my Adrian, killed.
And last night, as his chubby hands reached to find my face and grab fistfuls of my hair, my heart broke a little bit more. His life is precious. And the lives of those 100,000 babies? They were precious, too.