The baby who made me a mommy.

Amelia was very much a planned baby.  Paul and I dreamed of starting our family for about a year and a half before we finally got the positive test result that changed everything.  So it may come as a surprise to all when I say (gulp) it was not love at first sight.  Or, maybe a better way to phrase it would be, I loved her because I'm her mommy, but I didn't feel that amazing, intense, instant connection with her that I read all about while I was pregnant.  I remember clearly the moment they placed her tiny little pink body on my stomach the moment after she was born.  She started to cry and I thought, "Huh.  So I guess that means life as I know it is over." 

And that was pretty much my mindset for the first 8-9 months of her life.  Of course, I loved her intensely and took care of her the best way I knew how, but it took a long time for me to feel like she was really, truly mine.  She screamed.  All.  The.  Time.  And if you didn't have the pleasure of visiting us in those early days and months of her life, just take my word for it.  Doctors told me it wasn't colic, she was fussy and needy, and she was (obviously) just a baby.  If I had a penny for every time I heard the phrase, "Babies cry.  It's totally normal.  Babies cry."...well...let's just say I'd be driving a Bentley (or maybe I'd have a driver driving my Bentley) and living in a country estate in France because I would be LOADED.  I also struggled for a long time with post partum depression and anxiety, which is shameful and embarassing and humiliating and isolating.  It took a really long time for me to feel normal again...in fact, I remember about a week before I found out I was pregnant with William, I told Paul that I was finally feeling like me again, and I was so glad we weren't having another baby for a very long time.  HA!  God has such amazing timing, no?

Anyway.

I love my daughter.  I firmly believe our souls are entwined, that we're sort of cut from the same cloth, and that's why I physically hurt and ache when she's not with me.  I cannot imagine my life without her, not for a second.  I love her smile, her giggle, her fierce devotion to me...she is a mama's girl, through and through.  She loves her family, her baby brother (most of the time) and nothing makes her happier than a day spent outside. 

I can't believe she's already 2 years old.  Some days I look at her, and wish I had those first months of her life back to relive.  There are things I thought and said and felt that I am ashamed of, and I'll live with that for the rest of my life.  But I am so proud of the little girl she's become, I'm proud of the mommy she's made me, and I'm embracing (well, trying to embrace) all of the moments we share together. 

Love her.  To pieces.