I came over here ready to rant on bathtime.
I loathe bathtime. It's my least favorite mother/child activity. If I could hire a nanny to come to my house every night just to give my kids a bath, I would. It is the only time I ever wish my kids would just grow up and take a dang shower already.
But on my way over here I stopped by Suburban Turmoil. She had posted a short post about a reader and fellow blogger who had just lost her infant son a few days before his due date.
Suddenly my rant seemed so trite and trivial, so unnecessary. How blessed am I to even have the chance to bathe my children? To be able to hug them afterwards and sniff that sweet after-bath smell, to be able to wake up the next morning and do it all over again...day after day. It doesn't matter if it seems mundane or routine, what matters is that I get the chance to even do it at all.
I don't usually post things like this, but I felt I couldn't read her story, say my prayer and move on. I needed to share it. I needed the perspective it gave me. My stumbling upon her story seemed more to me than just a click or a coincidence.
I simply can't imagine the pain and heartbreak of losing a child before I barely even had the chance to meet him. My heart and my prayers go out to Cynthiaa and her family. Hug your kids just a little tighter tonight, try to stop and enjoy the fact that your kids are driving you nuts, revel in how blessed you are to be in that moment.
If you'd like, you can leave your thoughts and prayers for Cynthiaa on her blog here.