She sleeps soundly on my chest. There's no where either of us would rather be. It's so new, this weight on my chest. The overwhelming feelings. The love. The joy. The worry. This first full day home from the hospital.
Today is Thanksgiving.
It should be everyday; my heart is so full. My body tired yet alive and alert. This small baby that came from mine just a few days before. This small heart beating next to mine; showing me what it means to be thankful.
Thanksgiving Eve 2018
She sleeps in her own bed now. I hear the occasional cough. I see her through the monitor. I watch her breath move in and out. I lay with her before she falls asleep. It's been a full day. Full of play, laughter, cooking together, and lots of twirling in her blue, sparkling dress. "Watch me, Mama!" she says as she spins around and around.
As she's about to fall asleep she recounts our day. She says, "Daddy, church." Yes, he's at church for worship. "Pink pie, church! Happy!" Yes, your birthday is soon. Yes, we'll have a pink pie to share with your friends at church. Yes, we'll sing Happy Birthday to you. "Pink pie, church. Happy!"
After tossing and turning, a few kisses, some deep sighs, I hear her breath get deeper. She's still. She's asleep.
My heart still skips a beat thinking of her on my chest when she used to fit there. Now almost 4 she barely stops to give a hug. Every year her birthday and Thanksgiving are so close together. I can't celebrate one without the other.
Her birth, her life, the day of thanks; they go together. They fill my heart.
They both teach me what it means to be thankful.