10/30/2018

Last night we layed on my bed, you and I.  Dad was in the room with the older girls, snuggling Lena till she fell asleep.  He likes to do that, put each of you to bed.  It's his special time to hold each of you close, sing to you, rock you, and be with you until you close your eyes.  Usually he'll take you into their room, and walk in circles on the rug with you tucked up on his shoulder until your asleep.  But you'd had a rough couple of hours, and after nursing you heaved a sigh and flopped back on my pillow.  So I kept you there with me.  I played some soft piano music on my phone and we snuggled.  Your fat little thumbs and fingers grabbed onto one of my hands and I tucked the other around your fat little belly.  There was an overwhelming rush of gratitude as I reflected upon the last nine months.  And I remembered the night, at 26 weeks pregnant when I was kept in the hospital for early labor.  Laying in the hospital bed, with IV's and leg compressors, I remember being overwhelmed by fear.  After a blessing from your dad, grandpa, and all of my brothers I felt the fear fade a bit.  Mostly what I felt was love.  My insane amount of love for you little girl grew so big until the fear was pushed into a tiny space, barely able to exist at all.  The fear resurfaced a few times with pneumonia, CT scans, and electrocardiograms.  But then the love would resurge and battle the fear and win out.  I love you girl.  I knew then and I know now, you are mine forever.  So you fell asleep last night.  With your fat little fist in a deathgrip on my thumb, you fat belly falling and rising slowly you stretched, tilted your head back and opened your eyes.  You looked into mine with so much love, heaved a sigh, and fell back asleep.