About two minutes ago I tucked my youngest son into bed and kissed his cheek and as I did a big fat tear hit his perfect cheek.

So much emotion in that tear.

I just returned from the hospital visiting my friends' newborn Son, just hours old. I held him and rocked him. Wrapping him in love and smiles. Breaking just a little when his mother asked if I was doing okay.

I was. I really was.

I had prayed for and rejoiced at the news of this little one. I had anxiously carried my cellphone into bed each night waiting for news. Yet holding him, cooing at him and looking into his adorable face was still a reminder of what I had missed the last 15 months.

As I held him I was so grateful for his sweet little life and overjoyed to see what changes he would bring in his parents. I remembered that couple who left the hospital after the birth of my first, was not the couple who had come in.

Mom and dad both bore that exhaustion and pride that come with the magic of holding your little one in your arms for the first time.

I am so grateful that my heart is not calloused with my deep pain, that it still opens so easily to this new little one. I was slightly afraid the emotions would be a bit too much, or too bitter. But holding that precious little one was enough to salve an open wound.

Then I came home to my own little one, hardly little anymore, awakened by hunger since he had slept through dinner. I reveled in the silence and a chance to hold him and smile at him. To nuzzle into his neck and make him giggle.

Then as I tucked him back into his bed I saw a glimpse of the baby he once was and my heart swelled to fill the painful parts in my soul.

Welcome to the world Caden, and thanks for sharing him with me Nate and Hattie :)