There’s a book called, “On the Day You Were Born.” It’s always been one of my favorite ‘goodnight’ books to read aloud to Aves- not only for the bright pictures, but because I always find myself passionately dictating the words to her, and I can see wonder and amazement in little, preschooler, eyes.
We finished the book tonight and I asked if she’d like to see pictures from the day she was born. We went to her website and browsed from the very beginning. I think she finally understood the words tonight when I said, “I fall in love with you more, everyday.”
There’s a baby with wrinkles and sharp cries somewhere in my past. She loved snuggling up on my shoulder and kicking all her blankets off. Most parents wish they could go back to the beginning stages- which I understand- completely. I can’t however, trade anything for hugs with meaning- the choice to snuggle her mother, and come to me for goodnight kisses, or ‘stalling’ snuggles before bed, (as I’ve aptly named them.) When she chooses me? Her eyes look up at me with bewilderment and sparkle. No amount of losing time, or wanting something else back could replace the weight of knowing: She wants to hug me, and tell me in her sweet, little, voice, “I love ya!”
For any guy I’ve met, or friend I’ve made- or idea I’ve had- If you bundled them all together, and lit it on fire- that would only be a flicker of the passion and absolute joy I feel for Ava. I think sometimes as a parent we are blessed with such moments of clarity in love- that I couldn’t help but spell it out for all to see. She glows on her own, you see- my little, spitfire.
I look at the baby that I once held in my arms, and I can’t help but think that I was born to be her mother.
Sleep tight, Ava. 
