I can hear my baby snoring over the monitor. I sleepily snuck out of bed and down the stairs to try to catch a few moments of mommy time.
I listen to her breathing. Even as she sleeps I am pre-occupied with thoughts of her.
I cannot believe our little flower will be a year old next month.
The journey of her actually being in our lives wasn’t the most difficult, but wasn’t the easiest either.
When she was first born I never gave it a second thought. Joy filled my heart where there was an emptiness and I began my journey into motherhood once again after a very long vacation from newborn babies.
Only this time it was a girl. *still brings the biggest grin to my face*
If you’ve read anything else I have written you know between my husband and myself we collectively have four boys 11~14 years of age.
This sweet little angel is our first together.
Her first days and months were heaven. Her first smile was at 2 days old and I swear it was not gas. I relished each feeding, diaper change, and little whimper she made. To this day she rarely cries. I attribute my giddy attitude about diaper changes and everything in between to the fact that I am older and collected many years of uninterrupted sleep before she came along.
I have been nursing her for a year and she is still going strong. Playfully I refer to her as the “milk vampire” because up until about 10 months she still refused to try solids and rarely slept through the night, in fact she still wakes at least once sometimes twice
to suck my blood nurse.
She has the most adorable little rolls I have ever seen on a baby, enough to start her own little bakery and I am in love with every crease, fold, and dimple that graces her soft little body. When I sing to her or music is playing she tries to mimic the sound. When I say “kisses” she leans into me with her mouth wide open, drool spilling out over her bottom lip, and presses her face against mine. She has a gentle spirit yet I sense a strength about her already, which I am hoping will serve her well with four older brothers.
She waves bye-bye, claps her hands, raises her arms above her head when we yell, “TOUCH DOWN, GIANTS!” (we have some NY fans in this house)
She also makes the best sniffy faces.
However, one day it hit me. Out of nowhere while cradling here in my arms as she nursed. Not that I didn’t think about it. I had. It consumed me for nine, almost ten months, until I gave birth to her and could physically hold her. Just like the doctor said it would.
I almost didn’t have the pleasure of knowing this sweet little creature. She who has my heart in the palm of her chubby dimpled hands. She who has my eyes and her daddy’s wonderful sense of humor and beautiful smile. Our lives together almost failed to exist. All those moments late at night that I pulled her into bed and nursed her to grow and thrive, sniffing her soft downy hair, and becoming intoxicated with the mere sent of her.
My heart ached for months trying to understand the loss we were dealt, even while she was forming into life within me. Now almost a year later the love that oozes from my every pore when I see her has softened the pain. Its not to say sometimes I don’t wonder who that baby would have been. But in those moments of what if…
I pause look into those beautiful little eyes and tears fill my own. Not to know her as I do now would be unfathomable.