Yesterday marked one year since our little Miss came into the world. Bright eyes, bushy tailed, head full of dark hair. I remember that moment like it was actually yesterday. I'll be real: I checked palms, looked close for almond eyes. Not because I was afraid. Just 'cause I didn't want to be blindsided this time.
Those first few days weren't quite as uneventful as I had wanted them to be, but I stumbled home to settle into our family of four. We were happy. She was as beautiful as I had pictured. Her brother was (and is) obsessed with his little friend, smothering her with hugs and kisses.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to those first days. Pre-blindside, totally naive and engulfed in the goodness that is a newborn baby. Sometimes I wish I could erase all the valley's, all the mess and tears and hard days.
But then I remember how good it feels to climb the mountain after the valley. How beautiful the view can be when you've been so far down that you've gotten used to the darkness.
I look at my children and feel blessed to love them as much as I do. I remind myself that very few people have the opportunity to experience what we will. And remember that, even though I probably wouldn't have chosen the valley's on my own, I don't think I'd trade them.
Alexis is a joy. Her curls are still intact, her brother still smother's her with love, she dances and sings and loves on him right back. My emotional pendulum still swings somewhere between, "Everything's great" and "I'm a mess" but we're making our way up that dad-gum mountain. I can see a sliver of the view and I'm fairly certain there's a rainbow. I'll let you know when it's all I see.
Happy Birthday, Miss Priss! Here's to many, many more.
I love you.