It's three days away from Nell's first birthday. A day which I honestly believed would never come.
Somehow, in my mind, I could not get past the "trying to peacefully nurse a newborn with a three-year-old and a one-year-old running loose and wrecking havoc in the house" stage.
And, yet, here I am, almost one year later. Living. Breathing. And in my own opinion, rising just above surviving.
The baby tried (and liked) her first sample of whole milk today. My four-year-old is going to preschool and learning to write her letters. And my two-year-old is fully potty trained and can put on his own clothes.
I mean really, we must be a model family or something. (Wink, wink!)
So Friday will be a true celebration - for Nell and for her mommy. (And I think her Daddy may be feeling the same way, too.) Outwardly, of course, we'll celebrate with cake and candles and presents. But on the inside, I will be gushing with gratitude for the gift of life and the courage and strength to give all of myself to those young lives.