There are some very crystal clear moments that I can recall from her birth and early days. The not-so-good c-section, the c-section that made me sense my own mortality. Kicking nurses out of my room, so I could have the rest they said I should be getting. The way she cried so much that first night. How loopy my post-op drugged conversation was. The strange paradox of joy over my new baby and grief for my Grandmother's death the day before. Holding her tiny, warm body, next to mine and just breathing the scent of her. The top of her head still smells a bit like that to me, even now. The softness of her cheeks and tiny toes.
Now she speeds about the house on hands and knees. Climbs everything she can while letting out squeals of joy at reaching each peak. Screeches at her siblings if they happen to cross her. She has figured out how to bait her sister, and gleefully teases her. The excitement she expresses when we open the front door or basement gate - as though she longs for adventure outside the confines of our small home. I have a sense that she will break my heart in ways I've never been prepared for. I sense adventure and boldness in her, a longing for new and exciting things, for venturing beyond. Despite her young age, there is such stregnth and determination in her.

"Where has this thing you call cake and whipped cream been all my life? I must have more!"
I wish I could see the future to know what is in store for her, for us. Instead, I prepare myself for bed, to snuggle up to my (still co-sleeping) cuddly little one. The baby that loves to cuddle close, despite her longing for new and exciting things.
She will still be my tiny baby for some time. I cherish the moments, all of them. As her name says, she is a precious thing.
1 comment:
Beautiful.
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