I love the way she giggles at random things. A sneeze. A hiccup. A toy that surprises her. I love the way she drops everything and throws her arms up in a plea to be picked up whenever she sees me. I love the pucker that takes over her face when she eats fruit. I love how singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" will turn her fiercest cry into contentedness and how she grabs the newspapers and shakes them wildly when I am sorting the mail. I love the way her sticky hands fly a million miles a minute when I try to wipe them, and how she uses those same hands to yank handfuls of hair from my scalp. Kind of. Let me explain.
When I was carrying Lauren there were so many worries. I tease that she is such a good sleeper now because I never let her sleep for any length of time at all when I was pregnant with her--just making up for sleep lost! If it had been very long since I felt her move I would start poking here and there at my belly to get a little kick or movement. I lived on a continuum of "what if's" followed by appointments assuring that all was fine, followed by what if's again.
I wanted to do everything right. With CJ I learned that doing everything right isn't always enough, and that left me in a very scary place. I knew that things were out of my control, so I trusted it to the One who was orchestrating the show, but still I was filled with anxiety--which was a new (and horrible) feeling for me. It was like my heart knew that everything would be ok, but my head would not stop the static that let me dwell on what my heart was saying.
When I reflect on these feelings I am even more grateful for the girl I hold in my arms tonight for I have learned how fragile and precious life is through the lives of my children...through the death of one and the birth of the other.
I love my little Lauren. Hair pulling and all.
Trash Pickup Day
4 years ago