I blinked.

And now my kids are all potty trained.

The number of diapers in the house are dwindling and although I cannot be sad about the amount of explosive diapers I no longer have to deal with, the idea that my last baby is no longer a baby makes my heart sad. Their levels of independence has grown exponentially since Stephen died. Marcus makes lunch (soup and salad is his forte), Lena has taken over laundry duties and gets her brothers ready for bed, while Noah and Oliver are quick to help where they can around the house. Through the endless noisy and messy days that make up the trenches of parenting, my four little souls are growing up and I’m not ready for it.

As we were leaving ballet the other day, my boys ran down the empty hallway of the Vimy Ridge Academy. The sounds of their heavy snow boots and unabashed laughter echoed down the hallway as I picked up my pace to run after them. We ran past a helpful stranger who held the door open and said, “Don’t worry, it gets easier.” But does it really? Right now, my kisses are enough to take away any bumps and bruises, I can literally whisk them out of trouble, and they they can still curl in my lap and whisper, “Will you love us every day?” Despite being “in the trenches” I think I am in the midst of the most blissful stage of parenting!

There is a young man, Michael Meads, who I have never personally met. He is the youngest of five beautiful souls with a warrior of a mother and the most supportive of siblings. I came across Michael and his family after scrolling through Instagram. I am always looking for tips from families who have “done it,” and I am often in awe of the faith and fortitude they have. After contracting the adenovirus last November, the nineteen year old is now critically ill and has been on life support for two months. This family already survived the trenches that I am apparently in and are now facing the fight of their lives. I’m praying with them today. (You can too).

As I followed and read Micheal’s story, I recalled Stephen’s last days with us as he fought in the ICU. The uncertainty, the helplessness, and the fleeting hope in the room as Stephen fought his hardest is still very fresh in my mind. Prayer grounded us during the final hours as I gathered our children in my arms and I remember asking if we could hold him one last time.

Does it really get easier? Sure it’s tough now, but tomorrow will bring trials of its own. Life isn’t predictable, often it throws more curveballs than we can handle. And sometimes, we can get so caught up in worrying about what we have no control over, that before we know it, you will blink and be in another chapter. You will blink and your toddlers will be teenagers with their own battles to fight.

So hug your babies.

Hug them today, and the day after, and the day after. Hug them so they will always remember they are so very very loved.

If you are able, please say a prayer for Michael and his family today. Payers are just little hugs after all. https://posthope.org/mikemeads