September 28, 2005

The Reason I was Born....

It's 12:07 and I can't wait any longer. I make a bottle and tip-toe into her room where she is sleeping peacefully. Perfection. That is want perfection looks like, I think. I gather my sleeping angel in my arms and creep out to the living room, settling myself in the squishy rocker. Wrapped in her baby blanket, she sleeps on as I hold her bottle for her. She absently rubs my arm, exactly like she did a year ago when I frist fed her. Back and forth, back and forth, those sweet little hands go. Tears streaming down my face, I look at this little Being. Perfection. Why was I so blessed? What did I do to earn this? How do I make sure I am worthy? How can it have been only a year ago that we first met? She has been mine forever, and yet..... It was just yeartday that I heard that first little cry, saw that face, those hands, for the first time. It is just so hard to process. How can she be a year old, when she is still my little baby? How can it have been an entire year? I'm not ready for this. I don't think I ever will be. Her wandering hand stops.. she is done with her bottle. With a grunt, she snuggles closer to me. That same tiny hand creeps up, grabs my thumb, and closes.. tight. Holding me as close to her as I am holding her, to me. Perfection. We quietly get up and walk into my room, nudging daddy with my hip as I sit down. Softly, ever so softly, Daddy sings Happy Birthday to our little piece of Forever. Mama cries all the harder, trying not to jostle our Gift. Will it always be this hard, watching her grow? Will I always cry on this special day, remembering the child she was, hoping for the child she will become? God, I hope so.

Happy Birthday, Raegan. I love you.

3 comments:

alyca said...

I was going to call you at 1:25 this morning, but I figured that you might be a tad upset with the timing. Happy Birthday, Raegan!!!!

Davinie Fiero said...

You aren't supposed to make a grown woman cry this early in the morning. That was one of the sweetest things I have ever read. Yer a good mama.

The Writer said...

I hate to tell you this, but as they get older it is a mixture of, no, don't get any older, and, I can't believe I let you live for another year. But, maybe it's different with girls....