Monday, January 11, 2010


When we brought her home from the hospital, we sat and stared at her for hours.

I didn't sleep at all that first night, but instead reached my hand out every 10 minutes to the bassinet at the side of my bed and touched her chest to make sure it was still rising and falling, an even cadence that let me know that she was real.

I remember sitting in the rocking chair as she wailed that piercing newborn cry, and nothing I did stopped it. So I did the only logical thing for a sleep-deprived new mama, I sobbed along with her.

We haven't sat in that chair much lately, but the other day, she was sick and she said, "Mama, let's rock."

I gathered her up, all arms and legs, and she snuggled up and closed her eyes. "Sing, Mama", she whispered. And I tried, but I wasn't on tune because suddenly out of nowhere there were tears that came and fought for space with my voice in my throat.

I sang Silent Night, and we rocked. I thought that there wasn't much difference between the first time I rocked her and now....the same overwhelming feeling, the same soft little hands, the same song.

Funny how she can't wait to grow up, while I'm sitting here wishing she could stay little.

Her world is all pink and princessy right now, so that's what we did for her birthday.

One thing will never change - I can't imagine life without her.