It's January 20th, which means it's six days away from my baby's first birthday.  It's hard to believe it's nearly been a year since this little darling came to live with us.  I have to say that I feel quite differently than I did when Vivi's first birthday rolled around.  Before Brigette was born, I didn't really identify with mothers who cried bittersweet tears at their baby's first birthday, sad that their little one was getting older and changing so much.  I was rejoicing that we survived that first year, and I think every month Vivi got older, I enjoyed her more.  With Brigette, save for those first few weeks of crazy newborn-ness that give me hormonally induced blues that I find incredibly challenging to battle, I have relished every month and haven't wanted it to end.  I'll definitely be the teary eyed mother this Sunday, finding it hard to believe my little red-headed bundle will be turning into a toddler before I can blink.

This year has changed me in many ways.  I have surrendered and settled into motherhood, enjoyed it in a different and better way, and I have to say that I truly love it.  Not that it isn't difficult at times, but I feel like I fought it a lot before Brigette came along.  I adore my sweet Vivi, but I just wasn't sure who I was.  Now I do.  I was reading a story a few months ago about this beautiful young woman who had terminal cancer.  My first thought went to her mother and what she was enduring and feeling.  After a bit of pondering, it occurred to me that was a different thing for me to do.  Had I read that story previously, I would have put myself in the shoes of the woman with cancer.  This time, though, all I could think of was her mother, and that is because I am a mother.

The beautiful thing about this young woman's story, however, is the hope and peace and joy that you could see on her face and hear in her voice when she talked about her situation.  It was one the worst of tragedies imaginable, yet she obviously had a faith that was unshakeable.  And I thought, that's it.  That is what I am fighting for with my babies, that no matter what comes their way, whatever circumstances or difficulties arise, they will have that same peace in their hearts and joyful resolution on their faces.  I know this is a bit of a heavy post, but it has just been on my mind and in my heart lately as I keep encountering others going through such tragic circumstances.  It's probably another reason I have settled more into motherhood.  How can I not be grateful?  And grateful I am, for my sweet little Brigie and her endlessly cheerful disposition and strength of spirit, and the fact that I get to hold her and cuddle her and dry her tears and watch her learn to walk.  She is going to do great things, I am very sure of it.  The same goes for her big sister, too.