But the other night I had made it past the groaning door without even a stir from the sleeping child in the crib. I stand over him in the dark and place my hand gently on his back, rising up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. And I stay that way for a long time, listening to him breath. And gradually I find myself overcome with a profound sense of how much love I have for this child. SO powerful, it's palpable, the heat pushing tears from the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks. And a prayer crosses my lips:
I hesitate. What do I TRUELY, HONESTLY want for my child. The world on a silver platter? A long life without injury or accident? Or something more?