You see, maybe I hadn’t been planning on having a baby anytime soon or even ever, but I knew that this was my baby. It was our baby. I knew there was a reason for her being. She was given to me for a reason. It wasn’t just my reproductive system trying to impress the free world.
And after that, my whole view and world changed.
Truthfully, I have been and will always be ever-so grateful to have her in my life. There are nights when I tiptoe into her room to peak in on her sleeping, and she’s so sound and peaceful. So honest. I crawl into her twin bed and lay next to her tiny body, rest my head near her shoulder, run my hands through her curly red hair, and I thank the powers above that she is mine. Ours.
For me, this unexpected gift was the best I’ve ever received. And in the three years, two months, and four days since I pushed Allie into this world, she has been my saving grace, the light at the end of the tunnel.
When she laughs, the world is peaceful, calm, and true. Everything just makes sense.
I have learned more from this tiny soul than I ever have from any other source. I learned how to change diapers, kiss boo-boos, potty train, play in the rain, and hold a baby. I’ve learned to tolerate children’s songs, laugh freely and loudly, and how to deal with a little shadow, a minor mimic of major proportions.
Each stage of her life thus far has been a blessing. Though the latest is my favorite. I’m convinced that if I ever became a hoarder, instead of being a crazy old cat lady, I would just hoard potty-trained three year olds and talk to them all day. Listen to the things they came up with and laugh loudly and joyously with them.
Maybe I didn’t plan to be a mother, but I am. I love it. And I’m damn good at it.
