Summer is in full force with its long days and sweltering highs. Every evening, Zane, Daisy, Rufio and I go on a family walk. As Zane and I debrief about our days and Rufio inhales the familiar smells of the neighborhood, Daisy babbles to herself. "Da-da, da-da, da-di."
The end of June nears, I see 4th of July pins on Pinterest, and I remember where I was last year: hugely pregnant and waiting for Daisy to be born already. We'll celebrate her first birthday on June 30, which came around again way too fast.
How fast? This fast:
Our nightly routine is dinner, walk, bath, and bed time. Daisy knows the routine, and by the time I get her in jammies, she's ready. She holds her blanket, sucks her thumb, and snuggles on my shoulder as we rock in the creaky rocker. I sometimes think that the creaking sound should freak me out, but nothing unsettles me in her bedroom. It's serene. It's peaceful. It's pure. I know that God is watching her, protecting her. It's safe in there.
I sing her a few lullabies and hold her sweet little form close to my chest.
Before I ever got pregnant, I used to sit in that chair and wish for a baby. I would imagine what it felt like to hold a child in my arms. When I hold Daisy, I remember those dreams, and my heart melts. I am powerless to do anything but thank God for giving me the deepest desire of my heart.
She's the sweetest little thing, and I love her so much. It really feels like she's been with us all along, even though we'll be celebrating her first journey around the sun on June 30.
I understand more about life now. Being a mother has opened my heart to depths I didn't know were possible. It scares me sometimes, because I'm more vulnerable to heartbreak than ever, but I've also never lived or loved as much as I have in this year.
I am thankful. Not only because God gave me a child, but because he is changing me and making me new, and motherhood is an unmatched avenue for that growth and maturity.