(no subject)
there are probably some mistakes. forgive my laziness.
A little boy. A baby. A son. My son. *Our* son. I never really thought about what kind of mother I will be, because I never thought I will be a mother. Not even when I found out, for the second time in my life, that I am pregnant. Not even when I decided, for the first time of my life, to give birth to this baby. Not even when Luka said we have a boy, not even he was pulled out of me, not even when I looked at him, not until he was in my arms, in our home. It was only then that it finally sunk in - only then that I was sure that he was here, really here. And I'm still afraid. I don't know what's waiting for this little one, I can't promise him a perfect life... but after what he's been through, after proving to be much stronger than I ever was, I know he can handle everything.
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It's a large bed, but I don't bother stretching all over it - I want to be as close to my boys as I can. One lies opposite me, on his side, my mirror. The other, our miracle, between us. His small chest moves up and down slowly, and in the comfortable silence I can hear his breath. My finger brushes his tiny hand, and accidentally runs into Luka's, making me glance up, catch the peaceful smile on his face... and I'm thankful. Thankful that after all these years, we found each other (I guess his compass worked), that we had the lucky accident that gave us our son, that we all somehow managed to survive his unlucky birth. I wonder if he knows just how much I love him, how lucky I am that he's once again in my life. And then I stop wondering. Because that's the wonderful thing about what we have now - I no longer need to wonder, hope, think, guess. I simply ask him.