Sudsy feet. Her first laughs. Morning stretches. Hymn singing with the family. Joy.
So content cuddled tight to her Moma. Music with Kristen, a tiny first lesson. Soothed by her Pappy. Cuddling with her Daddy. Joy.
The first days are sacred, and they're not to be missed. They're to be witnessed, captured, savored. Everything else can wait, because right now these moments are the only ones that matter. They're the only ones that count. And I assure you, they'll count for eternity.
They slay me, these moments. They overtake me, silence me, provoke me to seek out truth. I want to love her the way she is meant to be loved, they way God would have me to love her, the way that He loves her. And that isn't panning out the way I'd always envisioned. It's requiring more. More and more and more of me. Being her Moma has already begun to refine me in ways I cannot yet fully express. In 2 short months, she's already made me better. And this is just the beginning...
So the phone can ring. And ring. And ring. Emails can go unanswered. Laundry and dishes can linger longer than normal. Because I refuse to miss them, these moments. In missing them I would miss her. And she is my calling. She is my purpose in this hour. Loving her, teaching her, caring for her every need. Right now, save God and my husband, she is all that matters.
She was meant for me. I was meant for her. She is my heart. And it would be a profound tragedy to miss even a moment,of that.
Extraordinary. Extraordinary moments. Don't miss them.