Our spot. . .

I am embarrassed at the way that I found out he was coming. I was in such a hurry that morning. Hurridly, I got Joshua and JCT dressed and ready to go. Joshua had a creative arts class 30 minutes away, and I was determined to get him there on time. I piled the boys in the van, drove to Wal-Mart, and bought the necessary item. I drove home at lightening speed, left the boys in the van, ran inside, took the test, and without even glancing at it, I hurried back to the van. As I took off down the street, I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes and picked the test up out of the cup holder. I held it up in front of my face so that I could clearly read it.

And, there they were. . .

Two sweet pink lines. . .

Elijah had been conceived. He was alive and well and living inside of me.

My pregnancy with him was a wild ride to say the least. I didn't have the oppotunity to spend hours daydreaming about him. Instead, I spent hours driving to and from the lumber store, the cabinet store, and the lighting store. I spent hours talking to Mr. Cole (our contractor), Gerald (our electrician), James (our tile guy), Mr. Kent (the concrete stainer man), and Home (the everything guy). Those months were busy to say the least. And, he was another precious son, so there was no real baby shopping to do. I did buy a sweet chandelier for his nursery, but other than that we didn't do much in preparation for his arrival.

He came early one morning in April. He conveniently made haste in the delivery room allowing his Daddy the opportunity to be at work on time. Always fitting in, conforming to our schedule, he is a doll like that. And, while I was in the hospital, I did get to spend a little bit of time holding him close and gazing dreamily at him without distraction.

Then, I came home.

And, I was met at the door by two very cute, but very needy, young men. And, bless his heart, he learned early what it means to share your mama. And, he shares me beautifully. He is truly a sweet and content baby. I do my best to divide myself equally among my guys during the day. But, to be completely honest, it is a struggle at times.

This is our spot. This is where I feed my Lijah. While the boys play like wild indians in the living room, we snuggle up in this soft rocker in my room. Our spot. It has become somewhat sacred to me. And, after he eats his fill, we sit, and we talk, and we have a really sweet time together. He smiles and laughs and cooes. And, I tickle his baby tummy and feet. I trace his baby ears and nose with my finger. I examine his daily loss of newborn hair and his finger and toenail growth. It is a peaceful time.

It is, at least, until. . .

someone comes running in wanting juice. . .

or tattling on his younger brother. . .

or crying big alligator tears while holding up the affected appendage.

It is then, that I emerge refreshed and return to my duties as mother of 3. But, I do believe that I will never forget, when I look at that soft rocker, the sweet moments Lijah and I had there. . . in our spot.