love

i just went into our room for the third time to put my little girl back to bed (a common occurrence). i lay down beside her. lying on her tummy, she propped herself up to examine my face and touch me to see if mommy was really beside her. with a sigh, she snuggled into my side, stretched out her arm, and fell back asleep.

this child barely naps and she doesn't sleep well at night, either. i could have jumped up and finally had some time to myself (which, really, i need and desire). but it was too sweet to lie in the dark, listening to the radio, and cuddling with my almost-9-month-old daughter.

i've always heard parents say that they didn't know what love was until their children were born. that they didn't understand the force of parental love until it smacked them in the face. that the waves of love came upon birth; or that they developed over time.

i can say unequivocally that my maternal feelings are the same as they were before she was even conceived. i never experienced a sudden 'aha' moment about my feelings for my daughter. when i first laid eyes on her, i simply thought, "oh, there you are!" i loved and wanted her passionately. i always have, i still do, and i always will.