I love being a mom. I have no idea how I was even able to breathe before this kid was born. We just celebrated our eleventh Christmas and on Christmas Eve, when the house was quiet and I was the only one awake, I found myself getting all sentimental.
We tried to have a baby for what seemed to be forever, though it wasn’t as long as some other couples. I remember the holidays during those five years as mostly heartbreaking. The one thing I wanted more than anything in the world, Santa couldn’t deliver.
When Heaven and earth opened up and I was finally able to stay pregnant, this little miracle made his grand entrance about a month early, putting him here in time for Christmas.
Oh, you don’t even the know the joy I felt, having that little angel in my arms on Christmas that first year.
When I got pregnant, I made a vow to myself not to forget the lonely road we’d traveled. Therefore, I know what a privilege it is to bake Santa cookies, to cuddle up with my beautiful son and watch Santa’s sleigh on the radar, and to read him “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”
Two nights ago, as I stood looking at our beautiful tree during Christmas Eve’s wee hours, a contentment I can barely describe washed over me.
It’s in those moments when grace slides in almost unexpectedly, that I remember just how eternally grateful I am to be Little Bit’s Mom.