Perfection

Perfection.

What is perfection?

Over my life, my definition of perfection has changed.

When I was little, perfection was cuddling up on the couch with mom&dad, or spending the night with my grandparents at their house- without my brothers, or a black raspberry icecream on a summer night. As I got older, it changed. It was a perfect grade, a sleepover with friends, cuddling with Johnny, or basking in the sun near the Opera House.

When I finally got pregnant, perfection was the boys. They were perfect in every way.

Early on, perfection was relaxing at home browsing through baby books or feeling them kick as I read stories to my class or knowing they were safe. Perfection was announcing we were having twins, wearing maternity clothes that framed my belly, and feeling kicks.

When I went on bedrest my definition changed once again. I no longer could relax at home or read to my class or even know they were safe. Instead, perfection became listening to their hearts on the monitor every morning and counting their kicks in the evening. It became naming talks in the evening when Johnny came to visit and it was watching the pages of the calendar fall away as days passed and they got stronger and stronger. Perfect was days without contractions.

Of course, once the boys were born perfection changed again. It was having them alive. Getting through surgery without complications. It was touching their toes and watching their eyes. It was praying for their lives.

When Connor died and Colby continued to struggle perfection remained. It remained in knowing we had so many people who cared for us. It was in knowing that we loved Connor forever and as much as possible. It was knowing that we could go on for another day because we had them in our lives. It was knowing that we would- somehow- make it through.

And now that Colby is home and thriving, perfection is him. He is perfect. He's the perfect son, the perfect baby, the perfect little brother to Connor.

~*~*~*~*~

As I sit here, on the eve of my 26th birthday I find myself marveling at how much life has changed in this year. It really has been the best and toughest year of my life. For some reason, just thinking about my birthday has been so hard this year. Last year I was in bed. Last year things were uncertain. Last year my babies lives were in jeopardy.

But last year I still had both of them with me.

I don't want my birthday to come and go. It's such a concrete reminder that I am getting further and further away from both of them.