Sad.

For the past many months I have been very aware of the fleetingness of these last precious moments together with Audrey as my 'only child.' Every little thing we do together seems extra special and almost every time I look at her throughout the day, I feel teary and nostalgic. Appreciative.

What an amazing little person that calls me 'mommy/mama.' As Henri says, "Children are honored guests." Indeed they are and my little daughter is truly an angel come to earth. (I'm not claiming she's perfect...just that she is a heavenly gift.)

When I think back to how much she has changed my life...inspired me to be so much more than anything or anyone else before her, I feel guilty. That first week after she was born, I recall what mixed emotions --bliss and absolute, total love! Annoyance, resentment, misery. Sleep-deprivation, hormones and wondering if life would ever be 'normal' again...whether we'd ever sleep or watch a movie in peace again. Dreading the future stretching out into endless diaper changes, feedings, baths, laundry. Oh the mundaneness of it all. And hence, the guilt. To be honest, surrender is a long process. One will probably always be underway. But somehow there was a definite turning point when it occurred to me: what other better or more worthwhile thing did I have to do? Was anything in my former independent life more worthwhile or significant than sacrificing for, investing in-, loving and nurturing this little person entrusted to me for such a short time?

Oh sure, I can still long for the control of a structured workday, work clothes, the kudos of a job finished and well-done. The paycheck :) I miss reading a book without interruption and being the master of my own day with few responsibilities for anyone outside of myself. The sleep.

But what is all of that worth compared with the flowers and weeds that my little girl picks for me every single time we're on a walk? Her 'gifts' --feathers she finds ("feathers that eagles left"), drawings. Her laughs or deep appreciation for the smallest of joys a fort in the living room, digging in the dirt, a craft together...or perhaps best of all those tight little hugs and sighs when she nuzzles up to me and says "Ooooooo I LOVE you mommy." The stories she tells. How she tries to help me with everything...I could go on and on.

Every time I give her a bath or dress her I marvel at how this strong little child-body was once as small and flailing as the one inside of me now. That tiny newborn is now a kid. A bona fide kid. How quickly life passes. And baths and stories and diaper changes and hugs and kisses and feedings. This is life. A million tiny moments strung together like beads on a string.

I hope that this second time around, I can slow down enough from the very beginning to treasure each and every one.