Tonight as I rocked my sleepy, yet restless 9 month-old daughter (who is wearing 18-month pajamas), I teared up a bit. Normally I'm too tired and touched-out at that point of the evening to feel any kind of passion, but tonight seems like a turning point. This girl began her life outside the womb with a breathing problem...and 9 months later she is nearly completely healed. So as I nestled Blaire into my arms (which is tricky with a 23lb baby and a fresh skin cancer wound) and listened to her tender purring, I shed a few tears of utter joy.
Joy in the thought of the hardest 9 months behind us, and a successful nursing relationship in full swing.
Joy in the truth that she is my delightful daughter, to nurture and love for as long as we are both here on earth.
Joy in the bizarre contradictions inherent in mothering a baby- endless days with endless wonder; tears of frustration and tears of delight; hysteria and quiet moments alike; relief and anxiety; delight and depression; all of it an expression of love.
My life has felt a little out of balance lately (as evidenced by two months of non-blogging), but I'm taking this moment to relive the past 18 months, to appreciate the most recent 9, and to draw strength from the truth that Blaire is a precious gift who will no longer be a baby another 9 months from now, so I better cherish, cherish, cherish.
You are mine, and I am yours, baby girl. I can't wait to see what God has in store for us both!
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| Even sick Blaire smiles |
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| Here's to breast milk, fruit and veggies! |
