14 Months

 I'm having fun with picnik's collage feature. Can you tell?

Also, I swore I would never ever dress my daughter in animal print

however

a zebra in pink sparkly high heels?

Come on! That is too fabulous to pass up.

Little Miss Sassy Pants,

You cry at 1 a.m. I pick you up. Rub your back. Change your diaper. Give you some milk. I still have pangs of not being able to breastfeed, but I'm forgiving myself. I feel a deep comfort in the fact my body swaying back and forth is enough for you to be calmed. And when you put your head on my shoulder? I'm goo. Grateful, cliche silly mommy goo.

I have to laugh at myself because lately here I am thinking my baby is this little girl all grown up and you are so tiny still. Young I should say. Sweet. Innocent. Alright... most of the time.

And I realize it isn't enough for me to tell you things are happy and good, I have to show you. It isn't enough for me to tell you we are happy girls in this house, I have to show you how to be content. I have to be joyful for you to grasp the notion. I have to show you how to love, how to smile even when you don't want to, how to summon your courage at your darkest moments.

This responsibility is both frightening and monumentally beautiful. Even though at times I wonder if I have it in me, I know I do. I'm so ready to continue to rise to the blissful occasion of being your mom. 

At 14 months you are daring, vocal, shining brighter than ever. You are pushing limits, testing waters, spreading your wings.

I look at you and can sense that you are at a sacred age. You are on the verge of blossoming and the anticipation of our walking talking girl is so sweet, so precious, so surreal. I'm not in a rush for you to emerge from this cusp, because I know there is no going back. At the same time I will not miss out on any of everything that is now because I'm too busy trying to clench it all in my hands at once. I happen to be giddy over the stage you are in now. In the morning you softly stroke my eyelashes and your movements are so gentle, I wonder if you are questioning where your gorgeous long lashes came from, because it definitely wasn't me.

Your latest trick is to repeatedly say momma momma momma and I retort back daughter daughter daughter. You grin with the knowledge of what we went through to get you here. The words on my lips are nothing short of pure perfection; the spoken promise of a hope so big it lights up the whole sky, the biggest most astonishing gift I've ever been given.