Thursday, January 6, 2011

A Poem to My Daughter

It is Emery's first birthday today! I cannot believe how fast this first year went and that I no longer have a baby but a toddler. I wrote this poem/letter to Emery yesterday and I thought I'd share it with you on her birthday. I will update with pictures and some video from her birthday party later...and maybe even post her birth story for the few that may want to read it. :) 

When I first saw you, you were so small and perfect.
You had such a tiny nose and lips, and big grey eyes.
I was amazed that you had all ten fingers and ten toes, such smooth soft skin, round full cheeks.
I thought I had never seen something so beautiful in my entire life. God gave me you.
I didn’t feel like a mom right away, but it started to sink in slowly and I began to realize the weight of the gift I had been given.
You were the first one of your kind, there had never been anyone or anything like you before, and you were given to me. 
I was your mommy.

I was to hold you, nurse you, rock you, rock you, rock you.
I was to stay up late with you when you wouldn’t fall asleep.
I was to soothe you when you would cry and cuddle you close when you needed comfort.
I was to bathe you, change you, carry you while I made us dinner.
I was to stare at you for hours while you slept so soundly in my arms.
I was your mommy.

As you grew you changed. You didn’t always sleep in my arms, you wanted to move, to roll, to sit up, to play. You would laugh so hard; you made me laugh. I saw your daddy in you; I saw how beautiful God made you. 
I was your mommy.

You loved to be outside at all times, to play in the grass, pulling it out blade by blade. You hated your stroller and only wanted to be held, but I didn’t mind because I loved to hold you close. Two little teeth poked through and it made me cry. You were growing up and no longer were you satisfied with just milk. 
I was your mommy.

You started talking, you said “mama,” “dada.” You would scoot, roll and climb. You would bounce to music and even sing along in your own special way. We would celebrate each month that you grew with a new picture and we’d compare it to the ones from the months before. I started to see myself in you. 
I was your mommy.

There were hard times too. You would cry, I would cry. I would pray to be a better mommy, to have an easier job, to have a baby who would sleep better. But I would look at you and you would look at me and smile. You always made me smile. 
I was your mommy.

As the months past you started crawling, pulling yourself up, and talking more, so much more. You would say “puppy,” “baby,”  “ball,” “sock,” “nose,” “bath,” “hi,” and “all done.” You would clap your hands and blow bubbles. You knew where your nose, ears, eyes, mouth and belly button were. You knew how to rock your baby and feed her. You knew how to wave “bye bye” and give us a kiss. You were learning to be quiet when we prayed together and you loved to read books, even to read them to yourself. You started sleeping through the night and then I realized that you were not a little baby anymore. 
I was your mommy. 

 I am your mommy. 
I am so thankful that God gave you to me as a gift, if even for this short time on earth. I get to teach you how to sing, how to cook, how to ice skate and paint your first picture. I get to show you how to sew, to knit, to plant a garden, to dance and snap your fingers. I get to show you things for the first time, like animals at the zoo, snow, rides at the fair, a sunset, the feel of sand in your toes. I get to teach you about Jesus, about what He did for you and me. How did I get to deserve you? I didn’t. God gave me you. I still don’t always feel like a mom, but it’s starting to sink in slowly. I love you, Emery my baby. 
I will always be your mommy.

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