>Why the Tears?

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My hospital has these display cases strategically placed throughout where they show off merchandise available for purchase in the gift shop. Right by our department, they have this display of figurines that has been there for months. Unlike the others that change for the seasons, this one stays as is. I was fresh from the ordeal of having Zachary and newly away from my family since being put on bedrest when I saw this. And my mind filled with the vision of John at home with my newborn.And John staring at a newborn Evan in complete wonderment. And tears stung the back of my eyes, threatening to fall. I have spent the months since then both trying to find these for purchase (not in our gift shop, go figure) and also averting my eyes from the display to avoid the emotion evoked as I pass it about a million times a day.
Today, I found them. Willow Tree by Susdan Lordi . They were at the gift shop of another campus of our hospital. A huge display of them, as a matter of fact.
I stood there staring as tears formed. I don’t know why. No inanimate object has ever brought on such emotion in me, and I felt foolish until the sales lady put a hand on my shoulder and said that there are just some people who are touched by these. I think it is just that I see all I hold dear in these faceless figures. I finally bought several and added several more to my wish list in my mind. And I brought them home, only for John to just not get it. He says they look nothing like us. I think they do in every way. The one above is entitled New Dad and is the one I saw first. I bought it and four others.

Inquisitive Child. I see a very curious Evan, absorbing the world around him. He’s going through some things right now, and we are helping him to navigate some rough waters. But deep down, at his core, this is him. The world just is not good enough for him.


Mother and Son. Me with my Evan. Love and hope. Joy and sadness. I see it all. Just like the figure, he has gotten too big to fit in my arms, and I do not know how that happened. I both mourn for the days behind us and hold blind joy for the days ahead.


Brothers. And in this, I see the grace and beauty with which Evan has accepted Zachary into his life. The hands of the older child guiding the youngest. The bond I can see forming between my two miracles. The harmonics of the symphony that is to be their lives together. My angels. My babies. My boys.


Anniversary. Because before there was an Evan and way before there was a Zachary, there was John and Andrea. And there still is.

And now for the ones I want:

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