Motionless
I watch two pink lines declare your existence–the start of the miracle of you.

Frozen
I hold my breath, looking for a flutter–your heart on the grainy screen.

At rest
I place my hand on my abdomen, waiting for you to move again–our first high five.

Spellbound
I drink in your face, wondering who you will be–my favorite new hobby.

Still
I welcome your head on my shoulder, puffs of breath on my neck–naptime in our special chair.

Transfixed
I shade my eyes from the sun, watching from the driveway–your first taste of freedom on wheels.

Silent
I sit in the driver’s seat, tasting tears with my smile–your first day of school.

Exhausted
I nod off on the couch, toys scattered at my feet–evidence of you all around.

Relaxed
I close my eyes, listening to your shrieks of laughter–my favorite sound.

Delighted
I give thanks for the miracle of you, celebrating who you’ve become–another year around the sun.

---

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Still Motherhood.”

---

Looking for more stories about motherhood, military life, and finding beauty in sacred/ordinary moments? Subscribe to my newsletter, Late to the Party. Every couple of months, you’ll receive a short note from me, some personal recommendations, and a journal prompt.