He fixed what was broken

Last night I was awake before the sun.  Zech has a little croup, and last night he couldn't sleep.  I propped pillows up against the wall, put him on my chest, and sat up with him.  He sang to me.  "Whoooooo" is what he says.  I sat in the dark holding my sweet baby.  7 months old and not feeling good, but he's singing his hoot owl song to me.  I discovered yesterday that when he starts to get fussy, I put his head on my shoulder and make his sing song noise.  Whoooooo

During my time of loving my baby through the dark, sleepless night, I listened to him sing with his little on my shoulder.  I thought about how much had changed since I found myself pregnant with him. 

I was broken spiritually and mentally after Joy's birth.  I was done.  When the 2 lines appeared on the pregnancy test, I cried.  The pregnancy, no matter how much I pretended it was good, it was a burden.  I wasn't happy.  When I was in labor, I just wanted it to be over.  When he was born, I didn't care to hold him. I just draped myself over the box I was leaning over to birth him.  It was done.  That was all. 

Over the next few days I stared at him.  I nursed him.  I snuggled him.  He reminded me of someone.  An old man.  He also reminded me of someone I knew.  I still don't know who.  Zechariah was a stranger to me in spirit.  My other children were familiar.  Some I saw in dreams before birth.  Even today, 7 months later, he's a stranger. 

As I sat in the dark last night, I knew I loved him more than anything I could imagine.  His singing brought me to a thought I'd never had.  Something that healed my broken spirit.  

When I was in labor, I was vocal.  I made a noise that Hannah said sounded like I was singing opera. 

As I listened to him, I realized that was the noise I made.  It was the same song. The same noise. It was a connection to me from his birth.  He was singing my song to him.  A song of birth.  A song of a new beginning.  A time where he fixed what was broken within me.