Sweet Emily

You're three weeks old already...my last little newborn. So far, the easiest of all my babies. Your face is still new to me; as I nurse you, we stare at each other like newlyweds. Who are you? you seem to ask...and yet, we both know.

So fearfully and wonderfully made; His ways are perfect. I can see that in all its glory as you wiggle in protest when I change your diaper. Your personality starts to show itself in bits and pieces as we figure you out. This dance we do with you in the middle of the night--exhausting but I wouldn't have it any other way.

People tell me I will hold you in my arms longer because you're my last. I think they're right. Your hair sticks up in the middle as it starts to curl--will you have the curls your Dad hoped for when you were just a glimpse of the sweet one you have become? Your dark eyes--will they change as you grow? I can't wait to find out, yet still I say to the night "slow down; I'm not ready to begin another day, still soaking in the beauty of this one."

My belly ached just a month ago; now, my arms ache as you love to be held while you sleep. It's a new pain but filled with more pleasure than I dreamed possible.

Sweet girl, I am so blessed to be yours forever...