small fingers, precious and fleeting

There was a time when my kids held my hands; fighting for the privilege, for Mommy owned only two. With each child that she bears, a mother should be given an extra appendage. Each child could name the hand and hold it whenever they need. For, the days pass so quickly, and hands need to be held while the holding time is ripe.
There was a day in a parking lot, when Austin sat down and cried, because I couldn't hold his hand. Papers and books in one arm and a bundle of Molly in the other, there was not much I could physically do for my 3-year-old son. I still remember kneeling down to his level and promising him, that if he would just help me count the steps and stay as close to me as he could, until we got into the car, then I would sit on the couch with him at home and hold his hand while we watched every moment, every song, every minute of Aladdin.
I think of my Molly's sweet touch, I only have one memory of her walking without holding a hand. On that December evening, so close to the last Christmas we would share with her, we were filled with hope and joy as she walked the journey that most take much sooner than she, from Mommy to Da-doe. That's what we wanted for her more than anything else, or at least at the time that's what we thought we wanted. To see her walking, independent and strong. To see her overcome immeasurable odds. Looking back now, I know that it wasn't important. She never needed to do things that others did. She was already loved and valuable, she never needed to walk without holding on.
Introspective today, beginning to gather the 1000 gifts I've received, I would want to count each of their little fingers, but then I am sad that I don't have a memory of holding the hands of Emily or Adam. It's not that I didn't touch, guide, and caress their sweet chubby hands, but it's that I didn't know I would crave the memory of it later.  Their small hands hold on for only second, a mere breath. I can't help but sigh; they aren't holding on, they aren't reaching for me. I barely know their fingers, at all.
Today, as I begin my journey to 1000, I am remembering and thankful for:
1:: Emily, holding my first born with both hands, on the morning after she was born, watching the Illinois sun rise across the farmland. I remember thinking, "I will never mind losing sleep for this child." While, I may have spoke too soon, I am so thankful that when I met her, that's how she was welcomed. She was always wanted, from the first moment the pregnancy test came back blue.
2:: Austin, with his one crooked finger, he could never slow down. Sitting and watching Aladdin went way too fast. How lovely it would be, to turn back time, to rewind the video and sit with that 3-year-old child for just another afternoon.
 3:: Molly, sometimes I wonder if she was sent to help me see God. His wonder was already here, it didn't appear after her birth. His grace didn't show up merely because she died, it was always here--but she makes me look at Him, so I can breathe when I think of her small chubby hands.
4:: Adam, a surprise, a prize. Lost are my memories for the first year of his life; snapshots of moments with his siblings around. This child born to me, to help me get through. His hands grew too quickly, his thoughts in a world of his own.  What will these once little fingers, these now grown hands do?

I am linking with A Holy Experience to keep track of the 1000 gifts that God has given me, and continues to give, everyday.