Remembering

Owen is talking now. Well, sort of. He is starting to say more and more words everyday. Most people would think, well sure, he is two and a half after all. I think everything Owen does is an amazing accomplishment. I think about that night, the night the doctor told Jess and I that Owen may not make it through the night. I remember watching in horror when Owen would stop breathing, I remember watching as Owen's skin turned this pale ugly grey color, I remember the sound of the alarms, the the voices and the movements of the nurses working to stimulate him so that he would begin to breath on his own. Now,Owen sits beside me playing with a truck. He loves trucks. I watch him everyday grow and thrive. I am in awe over this child, who only a two and half years ago, lay struggling to breath in an incubator. I remember, finding places where I could sit and sob quietly so no one could see nor hear me. I don't do this anymore, holding in my pain so that others can't see. It hurts to keep such fear and pain tucked in. I let it out.