One year old. It is hard to believe, and then again, it is not. There you sit, wearing the very first outfit I picked for you, days after discovering that the little one fluttering around in my womb was a girl. You slap the tile, shouting "ba ba ba," then slap the glass door and then the tile again. Sensory activities are your game nowadays. You call for me when I leave the room. You crawl to find your favorite toys and to get into cupboards. You say "da-da" excitedly whenever you see an animal. You sign "milk" and murmur "nuh-nuh" when you want to nurse. You are so big. Your daddy and I watch your growing independence with a mixture of joy and pangs that are bittersweet. Just yesterday you were new in my arms, no? The summer heat and smell of peaches on our grocery trips to Sprouts; the cloudless days and browning grass; the stifling afternoons and bright early mornings; the whirring of fans, the mist of sprinklers in the dusk - all bring me back to those early, foggy days. We were new, you and I. Those first days of motherhood hold the sweetest memories for me. Sitting in the dark, holding you, tiny and milk-drunk on my chest, knowing I ought to take advantage of the time and sleep but choosing instead to sit up and stare at you in pure wonderment. The sudden realization that I had joined a long lineage of mothers, from Eve to my own, and we shared something now that I had never understood before. I came into my own after birthing you. I found myself comfortable in my skin in a way I never had. I was a mother. I felt at home in this new role. It added fullness and depth to my identity even as it chipped away at who I used to be. A year has passed and we have grown with it. You're still you - sensitive, bright soul - and I'm still me. But we are stronger, more capable, steadier on our feet. Glory in the God who brought you and me into this world, who sustains us day by day. I praise Him for this past year of life, and for the boundless certainty that He will uphold us in all the years to come. 

June 7, 2015


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