4.3.17

A few weeks ago, when you were cutting your second tooth and battling the flu at the same time, we were having a particularly bad night. You were up every 30 minutes following bedtime, irritable and inconsolable.

I resorted to what I feel all women need when they're in pain; a warm bath. A love for water runs through your veins - it's no surprise that this is typically your cure-all.

But not that night.

I wrapped you up in a towel and you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with diapers or clothes or being put down. So we sat on your rug and I rocked you back and forth as you told me how you felt about those stupid teeth. You peed as you always do post-bath sans diaper. I snuggled you close to my chest with my cheek on yours telling you that I loved you and that everything was going to be okay. Your little heart slowed, your eyes closed, and your body relaxed. I was covered in pee and my right hip and leg went numb from the way I was sitting. And I thought, I'll do this forever if you need me to. I'll sit here rocking you as half of my body loses feeling, my back aches, my neck throbs, and my eyes burn from exhaustion if that's what will make everything right in your world.

There is nothing I wouldn't endure, nothing I wouldn't sacrifice, and nothing I wouldn't do for you, my little love. My mother used to express the same sentiment to me. I never fully understood it's magnitude until your soul took root within mine. But now it's clear every single day. My life is no longer about me. It's your time to shine, tiny wild woman, and I will forever be there to help you do just that.

Even in the middle of the night, wrapped up in a towel and tears, because as long as you're okay, I'm okay too.