One day...

One day this season will be behind us.

…our lives won't consist of driving 135 miles one way to see our son.

… our hands won't be dried out from the continuous use of hospital soap and antibacterial foam.

…we'll eat home cooked meals around our dinner table rather than choosing a different restaurant for every meal.

… we'll delete the NICU phone number from our cell phones.

… the microwave will beep and won't remind us of the alarms and monitors connected to our baby.

… we won't buy a toy each time we go to Wal-Mart with our 5 year old just because we feel guilty for being away from him so much.

…our friends will remember what we look like.

…we'll be home on the weekends and be able to return to church and feel the embraces of our church family.  

One day the tidal waves of happiness, sadness, anger, guilt, frustration, and euphoria will pass.

… I won't have to stifle the cries and tears that come so unexpectedly like at the dinner table, in the check out line, or at night when everybody else is asleep.

…the clerk at the Marriott will forget my name that she knows so well now.

… I'll see a healthy, full-term baby and not feel jealous.

… I won't center my evening around calling the NICU nurse to get a nightly update on my baby.

….we won't measure weight gain in grams.

…I'll watch the nightly news and actually process what they are saying.

…I'll find the strength to pack away my maternity clothes, including the ones I never got to wear.

Then one day we'll pack a bag and tighten the seatbelt around an empty carseat before driving north.

…we'll practically skip into the hospital as we prepare to bring our baby home.

…we'll shed some tears as we hug the nurses and doctors that have become like family and have cared so dearly for our Ethan.

….we'll walk into our home with the other pea in the pod that will make our family complete.

And then all of those "one days" will turn into weeks, months, and years….

And one day the baby that seemed so tiny and fragile will get the sweetest little fat rolls that will turn into healthy skin of a little boy, and eventually into the muscle of a man.

…his tender fingers that curl so snuggly around mine will grow large, rough, and strong.

…his tiny cries will change to babble, then words, and the voice of a gentleman.

…I'll let go of his hand as he walks into school the first day and will blink twice to see him cross the stage for graduation.

One day his heart that we will so carefully and prayerfully help shape as he grows will become his own.  He'll make his own decisions, fall in and out of love, and hopefully choose the right paths in life.

….he'll need us, love us, befriend us, think we're dumb, get mad at us, and come back around to love and need us again.

…he'll have babies of his own and will realize what an amazing miracle they are, no matter how big or small.

Though those "one days" seem to drag on right now, they'll snowball.  And before our very eyes, our babies grow into children, and those children into adults.  We can't slow the calendar, but we can sure enjoy those moments, precious seconds that create those "one days," and trap them in our memory forever.

Even as fast as the sands of time slip through our fingers, we still get to take them one day at a time.