Forever Grateful

I'm writing this from my phone, so I can't guarantee that there won't be any misspelled words or terrible formatting.
I'm laying here in bed, unable to sleep. My husband is sound asleep on his side of the bed, and snuggled at his side is my first son, Sully. Tucked soundly between J & I is Pierce. We're not typically all-night co-sleepers, but tonight Pierce wouldn't calm down. He was just silly, active, talking, bouncing, laughing. No matter what we did, he wouldn't go to sleep. I finally made the executive decision that he was coming to bed with us & so he did. He's been sound asleep for nearly 2 hours, so has his Daddy.
I keep scrolling through Facebook, flipping through Instagram pictures, reading blog posts. Everything about Mother's Day.
Most people talking about their own mothers, several talking about their own children. I've reached over & rubbed Pierce's foot a time or two thinking how amazing it is to know this boy is mine. That I am his mother. That today is my first mother's day.
We weren't raised to give our mother extravagant gifts. We usually made her some horrible breakfast in bed & gave her cards, sometimes handmade, others bought. So, when it came time for me to tell J what I wanted, all I could really think of was a larger memory card for my phone. Apparently 8 gigs isn't enough.
I could care less about gifts , cards that will just get stuffed into a drawer, flowers that will wilt & die.
I found myself reflecting back, just over 8 months ago we brought Pierce home. After spending 20 days in the NICU, we now were full-time parents. Scared to death of this tiny boy, born 7lb3oz came home 6lb14oz, he was so frail, still capable of falling very ill.
I've read birth stories and been reminded how very different our story is. How scary our story was.
I flipped through my literal thousands of photos, see why I got a 16g card? I found the first picture of Pierce, laying in his NICU bed, not swaddled in either of our arms. The first pictures I have of him are precious to me. They are of him, wearing only a diaper,  very dark lighting but I can still see his precious pout. No ventilator, no ivs, no machines beeping & displaying numbers we learned to read all too well. I didn't get to hold him that day, or the following six. Finally, day 7. Day 7, last visit of the day, I held my angel for the first time. I cried the happiest tears I've ever cried. I cried all night at home.
Tonight, I've shed tears. Tears of sadness as I still mourn the imagined perfect birth day for Pierce that didn't go as planned in any way.
Tears of joy. While getting him home was the greatest fight we've ever faced, the largest struggle we've ever overcome, he is home. He is healthy. He is even more perfect than I ever imagined when I dreamed of that baby in my belly.
His smiles fill my heart, his laughter cleanses my soul.
I also cried tears of gratitude. Extreme gratitude for the nurses who fought so hard for him. Especially those first terrible nights. Three nights they talked of flying him to other hospitals. We were in the best hospital in our area, with only UAB or Vanderbilt being higher level NICUs. Those nights he had angels, not nurses. So, I found myself sending one angel a message on Facebook, these aren't people you forget about. I had to thank her for my first mother's day. I truly believe she was Pierce's angel those nights. She saved him from alternatives I refuse to think about. She saved us from knowing how truly bad it was. J has let me know little by little things he kept from me. But I know there are things his angels kept from J too.
Those angels are why I get to celebrate my first mother's day. I will forever be grateful.