Rocking Chair

My son, Noah, accidentally broke my rocking chair today. Don't ask. Anyway, it made me think about all the hours I spent in that chair with Ayden Jane when she was sooo tiny. We did not know what was wrong, we did not know how far she would be able to come, we had no clue the road ahead for her, we just knew that we loved her. I would rock her and pray for her and for me and for my whole family and for the doctors to find answers. The hours and days and weeks turned into months. Somehow she would find ways to let us know she was in there and trying her best to find her way out. There was a fighting spirit in her even then. Yep, sometimes I cry when I rock in that chair late at night when the house is quiet. Not out of sadness exactly, just, well, because, I guess, sorry no real word for it. I guess it is just what happens when we feel sorrow, fear, hope, amazement, pride, sadness, joy, awe and wonder all at one time.

This picture is of Ayden Jane at about 14 months. She was just starting to stand confidently and take a couple of steps. It is one of the many examples of the miracle we call Ayden Jane.