Feet

I think about Asher & Evan's births every day. Each day my mind recalls different snippets of it, little moments before and during their arrival. The first week or so that I was home it was a constant replaying of events, involuntary and relentless. I wanted to remember every single detail, and didn't yet have the strength to write anything down. Now it's less of a constant stream, but memories pop up all day long at different times. Some make me smile, some make me cry.

One small moment that I am so, so thankful for happened after the boys were born, while they were laying on my chest and J and I were soaking them in. They were achingly beautiful. We looked at their tiny little hands. We examined their precious, perfect little feet... so tiny, so perfect. And J said, "I think they have your feet." I hadn't thought of it myself, but as I held Asher's tiny foot in my hand I realized he was right. J and I have very different feet— his are slender and narrow, and mine are wide. The babies definitely had "wide" feet. They had my feet.

I don't look at the soles of my feet very often, but for some reason I did the other day. I instantly remembered that moment, and my boys' adorable little feet that matched mine. I am so thankful for that moment, and so thankful to my husband for pointing out this detail. It's one of the moments that I cling to. Asher and Evan had my feet.