It's easy to get bogged down my the messes, the whining, the yelling and the nonstop nature of being a mom.
Last night, Chris was out with friends. Because I was on my own, I felt a little less ridiculous crawling into bed with Meredith and wrapping my body around hers. She was sleeping heavily, looking like a perfect little angel. I stroked her cheeks and ran my fingers through her hair. I pulled her close and breathed her in. I savored her presence while she was completely unaware of mine. As I lay there, I couldn't help but think back to three years ago.
Three years ago, my body was swollen tight with anticipation and a full term baby. My first baby was almost here. School was out, the nursery was ready and all that was left to do was wait. I cleaned, I slept, I walked. But mostly, I dreamed. I dreamed of what my baby would be like. I dreamed of what motherhood would feel like. I dreamed of rocking her tiny body and feeding her with my own. I dreamed of walking her in the baby carrier and laying with her in the park. I dreamed of introducing her to friends and family. I dreamed of holding her late at night, watching her sleep.
Last night, as I held her late at night, watching her sleep, I was struck, so powerfully, with the fact that my dreams have come true.