13 months. My little Dove is 13 months today. I heard her baby voice babbling from her crib this morning as I walked into her room to pull her into my arms. I held her warm body close and nestled her rosy cheeks all pink from the night’s warmth on her sheets. My mind flashed and I remembered the first time I ever held her in my arms and how I couldn’t stop thanking God and how her little body surprised me with its actuality. I think I had been in denial those whole nine months.
I sat down to nurse her for the last time. No book. No TV. No computer. Just her and me, because this was the last. She ate calmly for just a few moments and I watched her little lips and cheeks move to her own rhythm as I desperately tried etching each movement in my memory. She has been the easiest baby imaginable. Then, for the first time . . . and the last . . . she heard her big sister enter the room, and just like that, she promptly squirmed from my lap to go play. She was done.
Before I had time to officially say goodbye to her year of babyhood, she was off.
Maybe that’s the way it should be.
What are the chances that we were both ready on the same day? But why am I surprised? She entered this world in an explosion of answered prayers. And while I am left with an ache, wondering how one year could fly by so fast, I see His large, loving hands all over the details her sweet, little life.
She is my grace.