My arms are full and my heart is heavy.

I'm snuggling an 18lb bowling ball of a baby right now, so my arms are weighed down and I can't type much.  But my heart heart is much heavier and by comparison my arms are light as a feather. 

Earlier this week, my friend's baby didn't wake up.  Sweet little Baby Bo was welcomed by a loving Mommy and Daddy and adoring big sister just over 4 months ago and this weekend, he was laid to eternal rest.  I can't imagine the heartbreak.  It hurts my soul to even dare to think about it, and brings tears to my eyes.   

K and I had our babies weeks apart and joked about losing our baby weight and what a struggle it is.  I had two sick little boys the day of their going away party, so I just took Marek for a short visit that day and said goodbye and good luck in North Carolina.  I am so glad I said goodbye and got in one last hug.  I wish I could extend that hug across the miles again tonight. 

Since hearing the news earlier this week, I've been snuggling my boys extra.  I've been letting them sleep in my arms, and allowing the extra ice cream they were trying to sneak at the pot-luck lunch (I think Pete nearly had a heart attack when I called him over with the ice cream, only to help him open it instead of take it away).  I usually try to keep my anxiety and panic to a minimum regarding my kids, let them learn to ride bikes, go to preschool, ride four-wheelers with Daddy.  I push my anxiety down so that they can learn and grow and explore, because I don't want to be the mom who won't let my kids out of my sight.  But days like this I let my anxiety take over and try to get as many of the hugs and kisses and snuggles as I can.  Just in case this is the last snuggle.  I want to remember every second and every snuggle.  Just in case.  Just in case. 

If you have a spare prayer in your heart tonight, please send one up for Baby Bo and the J family missing him tonight.  And then go hug your babies.  Just in case.