Little Lady.

My beautiful little Ansley,
I don't know how we've gotten this far. But, we have. And we'll keep moving forward.
This is where I'm supposed to write all that sappy stuff about you no longer being an infant and becoming your own little person. About how you've said goodbye to your bottle, developed your own personality, and have even taken a few steps. But despite your increasing independence, I know you are still my baby girl.
You don't stop moving very long. You aren't very cuddly. But tonight, right in the middle of play time, you crawled over to me and snuggled. It was just a few seconds before that need to explore kicked back in, but it was just long enough for me to catch that now familiar scent of Johnson's Baby Shampoo, mixed with the sweet smell of clean pjs. My heart leapt, and I remembered that day a year ago.
I remember that first cry, especially because it didn't come right away. I remember that first kiss, though, I'll honestly admit, you hadn't been cleaned off yet and it grossed me out to kiss you still covered in mommy's baby juice. But, I did it. Because you were my baby.
The next few hours left mommy so weak and disoriented that she couldn't get down to the nursery right away. But daddy had pictures.
And then we brought you home. And you grew. And you are still growing. Each day reveals a little more of who you are, and what you are becoming. You are happy. Despite the fear and anxiety that often surround you, you laugh. You smile. And, most of the time, it's at the UPS men.
You love your puppies. You share your kisses with them almost more willingly than you do with us. But that's ok, little girl. Because Mommy knows that at the end of the day, when the house is getting dark and sleep is closing in, we retreat to your room and cozy up in the big chair, without the puppies, and I get all the kisses.
We rock. I don't mean that we are cool, though that's true, but I mean in your chair. Sometimes we'll rock a little longer than other times. And you'll cuddle in, for just a moment. And, in that moment, I know that no matter how old you are, and how big you get, you'll always be my little girl.
I love you little girl. Happy Birthday to you!

Love,
Mommy

I'm not ready for this.

I just put my little baby girl to bed for the night. A little early because she skipped her afternoon nap.

When I get up in the morning, I'll have a 1-year-old.

And I can say that, because she was born at 6:20 a.m.

Goodnight baby girl, and good morning little lady.

Bittersweet.

As I sit here and type this blog post, it is T-minus 43 minutes until the end of my work day, and thus, the start of vacation. However, it's T-minus 4 hours and 43 minutes until we hit the road.

So I should be excited, right? I mean, a wedding and seeing tons of family, followed by 5 days on the beach with nothing to do except relax. I should be looking forward to Ansley's first time at the beach, and all the cuteness that is sure to be involved (especially a little lady bug bikini that I found as a steal at Goodwill).

And, I am excited. I've been looking forward to leaving for about 2 weeks. I've got outfits planned for some great Ansley pictures, and, of course, the typical khaki and white family photo on the beach. It's totally happening.

But, there's this nagging feeling that has brought me so very close to tears a few times today. Even now, the screen is getting a little blurry, and I'm wondering if this is what drunk texting is like.

In September, about 4 days before Ansley was born, I had to spend 23 hours in the hospital for observation. The worst part? Not the fact that I had to wear that stupid gown, or the fact that nurses kept checking in because they thought someone was crying in my room (actually, Paul was close to crying, but America's Funniest Videos was on, and his laughter was echoing).

No, the worst part was that I had planned to have dinner with my family, because they were heading out to New Mexico that evening to help my sister move. And instead, I was stuck in the hospital, unable to hug my sister's neck, and tell her in person how much I loved her before she moved across the country.

And, that's how it will be again.

When I leave tonight, it will be the last time (for awhile, at least) that I'll get to see my sister. She's leaving again. And while I'm so terribly excited for vacation and relaxation, I'm also terribly sad that Ansley will have to say goodbye to her favorite aunt, and not understand why.

But, I am excited. I'm excited that she'll soon see her husband, who has been deployed for several months. I'm excited that they get to be newlyweds again, even if their 1-year anniversary is nearing. I'm excited that she's more courageous than I am, and brave enough to start a life somewhere else. And I'm excited about what the Lord has in store for them.

And, maybe the excitement does color the grey. But, right now, it's T-minus 4 hours and 7 minutes, and I've made it through just about a whole tissue box.

Valentine's, a little late

Happy Valentine's Day! Yes, I realize that day has already passed, but we have yet to celebrate that day in my house. Well, at least, Paul and I have yet to celebrate that day. Ansley got a few kisses of her own.

It's tough documenting all the "firsts." I don't have pictures for each month she ages. I can't remember exactly when she smiled. I can't remember what she wore on Thanksgiving. And I can't remember the first time she laughed.

But I remember what I felt.

And, maybe that's what is more important. I can't remember all the gifts that Paul has given me for Naked Cupid Baby Day, but I can't forget how I felt.

Each and every day, I feel loved. Each and every day, my heart overflows with the joy that Ansley has brought to my life. Each and every day, I smile when I picture her gummy grin, or Paul's goofy expressions.

And, that's love. It isn't the hearts or stuffed animals, or even the chocolates (::gasp!::) that my friends in high school would get on Valentine's Day. It isn't a dozen roses, or even though butterflies you feel with your first kiss. But, it's those memories.

So, today, not just on February 14, I choose to remember those feelings. I choose to smile back at Ansley, and I choose to let those butterflies take over like the first time.

Love is more than a feeling. It is a choice. And today, I choose to love.