Monday, November 8, 2010

Holding Hands

I'm sitting here tonight after putting my daughter to sleep, yes, it is only 7:30, but that kid just would not take her third nap no matter how hard we tried, so a little early to bed we go.

As I nursed my sweet girl before bed, I recited to her my favorite story, On the Night You Were Born, buy it for anyone you know having a baby, tear JERKER, seriously. I hear my voice tremble as I speak the words, "For there had never been anyone like you ever in the world," "Until everyone heard it, and everyone knew, of the one and only ever you."

Such a gift I have been given, Lord thank you for the miracle you created in me, for the mother you have created me to be, and the sweet girl you have created in Brooklyn.

My girl, is a hands girl, and always has been. From her very first days of life she has stared at hands, she is enamored by the picture my parents have hanging in their family room, The Hands of God and Adam in the Sistine Chapel(, and she holds my hand for most of every day.

If she cries out in the night, I give her my hand, when she wakes up in the morning (but I'm not really ready to get up) I give her my hand. As she nurses in the morning, she holds my thumb, when I carry her in my Moby, she holds my hand. As we shop, we hold hands. As I drive, we hold hands. As she naps, she holds my hand. I lay with her before bed every night, she squeezes my thumb, and it is the most precious moment, every day. (My bedroom was decorated in precious moments... hehe!)

See, she's just a hands girl. For some reason, she just loves to hold hands, and I hope she always will. I cherish the moments she holds my hand or thumb, squeezing, falling fast asleep. What a love.

I know one day she'll be embarrassed to hold my hand. Sometimes I will hold her hand for her safety, or to show her the way. But mostly, I hold her hand because she is my daughter, and we're sort of best friends (at least that is what I tell her). I'll remember these moments when she is 11 and thinks she doesn't have to hold my hand. (And remind her she used to never let go.)

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