Today after a long day of holiday festivities, we drove home in the dark with our littles. It’s an hour long car ride back to our little town. The roads are mostly dark but the street lights lit their round faces just enough for me to see the outline of their blonde hair and the bright colors of the pretty dresses they’d adored for the occasion. They slept there peacefully, genuinely tired from a long day of playing with cousins. I was looking at THREE healthy children. Three children I’d birthed and raised and they were mine, all mine, I get to keep them. I remember what it felt like the day each was born, just like Christmas morning. That’s the feeling I had looking at them tonight. They are just like Christmas morning, the best gift I’ve ever been given, and I get to keep them. I get to love them, I get to call them mine. I get to watch them grow. I know many mamas out there like my own mother, who have buried their babies. Who have been forced to lay them down for a final time, knowing they would never see their round beautiful faces again. I’ve photographed some of these babies, I’ve fought my own battle of cancer. I’ve seen babies come to the hospital and never get better. Tonight while my husband drove a car full of ladies home in the dark, I stared at them. My heart was full, overflowing with gratitude and love. They may grow, and babies don’t keep, but that’s okay. Watching them become the little humans they’re meant to be is truly a privilege. Not something to be taken lightly for granted in the least. And while I do wish for them to grow slower, I’ll take solace in knowing that each new stage is a new opportunity for a Christmas morning
