Looking back on 2009 I would have to say  it was a pretty an amazing year. In May I gave birth to my first baby. After a twenty six hour labor then a c-section he came into this world beautiful and glowing. Not only did I have a rough delivery but a near death experience twice in the proceeding weeks after I had the baby. I recovered in time, but to say the least it was a hard time in my life.

I have always known that life is precious but when you have an innocent untainted child at home, it is even more precious and everything takes on new meaning.

Today I was looking at some of my sons newborn pictures and just reminiscing with my mom about the day he was born. I can’t believe that this week he is seven months already. He is 19lbs of pure love, has a smile like no other, and eyes that sparkle like the most brilliant diamonds that you ever did see! He is truly the love of my life!

I will leave you all with a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that was read at my sons baptism. I just wanted to give some glimmer of  hope to those who are struggling in there lives now and to remind them that there is still purity, innocence and  good in this world. It lies within our children who depend on us to teach them, and to love them the way everyone deserves to be loved. Happy New Year. May it be a great one!

Come to me, O ye children!

For I hear you at your play,

And the questions that perplexed me

Have vanished quite away.

Ye open the eastern windows,

That look towards the sun,

Where thoughts are singing swallows

And the brooks of morning run.

In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,

In your thoughts the brooklet’s flow,

But in mine is the wind of Autumn

And the first fall of snow.

Ah! what the world would be to us

If the children were no more?

We should dread the desert behind us

Worse than the dark before.

What the leaves are to the forest,

With light and air for food,

Ere their sweet and tender juices

Have been hardened into wood,

That to the world are children;

Through them it feels the glow

Of a brighter and summer climate

Than reaches the trunks below.

Come to me, O ye children!

and whisper in my ear

What the birds and the winds are singing

In your sunny atmosphere.

For what are all our contrivings,

And the wisdom of our books,

When compared with your caresses,

And the gladness of your looks.

Ye are better than all the ballads

That ever were sung or said;

For ye are living poems,

and all the rest are gone.

__ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow