I remember those 2 pink lines. 5am. Bathroom floor. Uncontrollable sobbing. 2 years of infertility. Finished. She was here and she was mine. A miracle baby. My miracle baby.
I remember the first time I heard her heartbeat. I needed to hear it again. Again and again and again. I bought a doppler online and listened to that beat every single day. I laid on my bed day after day, dreaming of the little person inside of me with that perfectly beating heart.
I remember clocking hours in that little white rocker. I would nurse that baby girl and cry happy tears. I fell so in love with my sweet girl in those moments. Breastfeeding was downright HARD, but I would never, ever, ever trade the bond that I formed with that girl in that rocker.
I remember her first birthday. It was hot. It was July in Iowa and her party doubled as our going away tribute. Her cheeks were red and sticky and the watermelon hat she wore that day is etched into my memory.
I remember her sitting on the floor in our Dallas corporate housing. She would take the k-cups in and out of the holder, arranging them in her own way and then giving me the biggest cheesy grin.
I remember the day we brought home Mr. Pickles (aka Ninja), our shelter kitty that we kept for exactly 1 day. She chased him around, squealing and giggling, as he hid under any surface he could find. She loves big and she loved that kitty big.
I remember her sitting in her room, surrounded by hair bows. A girl can never have too many accessories. She could barely manage them over her head, but she was bound and determined to wear them all; all by herself, no help from mommy.
I remember our 3 day potty training adventure. She lined up all her dollies in their new undies and lit up like a Christmas tree when she realized mommy was planning to spend the whole day, no distractions, in the living room with her, doing activities, drinking juice and waiting for her to perform. She wanted to spend all her time with me. She loves me so much. Please, Lord, let her always love me.
I remember when her brother was born early. He stayed in the hospital and I with him; I couldn’t leave him; I just couldn’t. After week one, I came home. We had a mommy date. Daddy drove us through Starbucks for hot chocolate. I remember her crying silently like a big girl, trying not to outwardly express the toll mommy’s absence was inwardly wreaking on her. It was the first big girl, honest tears I’ve ever seen of her. It broke me. We both cried. I missed her. We are knit from the same cloth. We are whole together.
I remember the day she got into the chocolate chips in the pantry, melted chocolate everywhere. I went off the charts berserk and she flung herself on the floor in a fearful fit. Chocolate now all over the rug. I dragged her messy self into the shower and gained my composure somewhere in the midst of the water fest. I wrapped her in a towel and held her tightly on the couch. I explained what she’d done was wrong, but how mommy reacted was also wrong. I prayed with her and we forgave each other. She is so quick to show grace and forgive. I love this about her. I need a lot of grace. Then we melted into fits of giggles, imitating crazy mommy with flailing arms.
I remember the day we completely surprised her by taking her to Frozen on Ice. We didn’t let on where we were going until we walked into the facility. That girl was absolutely mesmerized and belted those songs like they were hers to sing. I love it when she sings….and dances; it’s classic when she dances.
I remember the night before Jase was born. Her first and only real stomach bug. She threw up 8 times throughout the course of the night. She was such a brave girl, moving from one soiled blanket to the next on our bedroom floor. She won’t have you believe this, but that girl is one tough cookie.
I remember this past Valentine’s Day. It was a Sunday. I surprised her and took her straight from church to a Mommy date. This was extra special because Jase was still nursing nearly every two hours, so I never left him. But this day, I did. We went to see Kung Fu Panda in 3D. My big 4 year old climbed into my lap as soon as the candy vanished. The movie was great, but the mommy snuggles were everything. She needed me and I her.
I remember the night the two of us danced stark naked to Taylor Swift at shower time the way a mommy would only dance with her 5 year old daughter. She lights up when I let down my mommy reigns and just have fun. She glowed that night. I want to remember that grin always!
I remember last night when she picked out two lady bug patterned fabrics for me to sew “hearts to hold,” a tradition I learned from another wise mom. I will send one heart with her and keep one for myself and the hubs to hold throughout the day tomorrow as we remember each other.
It is true what they say. It goes by so fast. Tomorrow I will put this sweet girl, my miracle baby, my Brynn on a bus. I will kiss her and hug her and send her to kindergarten. I will remind her that even though Mommy is not there, Jesus goes everywhere with her. I will pray fierce that she believes me and that it sustains her. Not just for tomorrow, but for always.