beautiful life

Motherhood is a roller coaster for me.

Some days (and nights) are rough. Really, really rough. 

But even through the haze of exhaustion and frustration, a lighthouse of joy shines in me.

Each time her little arms find their way around my neck, my heart softens and the reminder that what I am doing is eternal consumes me.

I am learning to forgive myself. No one can be a perfect mother. I think that in trying to be the ideal mother, I have only hindered myself in being the mother that Lily needs. 

When the weather is nice, my hobbit explores the backyard. She insists that I accompany her. She takes my hand and leads me to the blooming tulips. If I begin to walk away (usually to pull a weed I've spotted), she yells and chases after me, only to pull on my hand and show me the leaf that she's found. Admonished, I lay on my back in the grass and let her tickle me and reconnoiter the fascination of my belly button. I tell her about the baby that once lived in my belly. She tries to plant a wet raspberry on my rib cage. She fingers my frizzy hair and inspects the curvature of my ears. I tell her I love her and she rests her head on my thigh before perking up at the rumble of a motorcycle going down our sleepy and still street. These are the moments that I have to remind myself of when I'm woken for the umpeenth time during the night. These are the moments I live for.