For what seemed like 
a blissful eternity, I rocked my little girl back and forth, back and forth, 
back and forth. Her small koala body clung to mine, legs around my torso, arms 
around my neck. I stroked her fine hair and held her close.
What she doesn't know 
is that I'd hold her every day just like this. She could ask me anytime, 
anywhere, and I would drop whatever I was doing to take her up into my arms and 
feel her warm little heart beating next to mine.
What she doesn't know 
is that after an atrocious day full of tantrums and harsh words, when I count 
down the minutes until bedtime, I miss her when she's asleep. If I knew it 
wouldn't wake her (and it undoubtedly would), I would crawl into her room just 
to peek at her sleeping. For a child so full of energy and life and passion 
during the day, she is surprisingly relaxed and at peace when she dreams. And 
though I may not be fully prepared for what the next day will bring, I am 
secretly excited for morning so we can meet again.
What she doesn't know 
is that I hate myself for the ways I fail her. The impatient clucking, the loud 
snap of my voice, the wrong choice of cleaning my kitchen when I could have been 
reading her a book. I pray she will not lack anything because of my faults and 
insecurities. And I hope one day she will see all the ways I worked on myself 
just to be better for her.
What she doesn't 
know, what she couldn't possibly know, is how deep my love runs for her. It 
courses through my veins. There is nothing I would not do, no thing I would not 
give up, for her. I know now, in a way I could not have known before I knew her, 
that love like this cannot dry up like a dusty river bed. It can only grow 
stronger, a raging river, with an endless source. It would be impossible to not 
love her.
What she doesn't know 
is that as time goes by, she will grow up. Dolls and blocks will be traded for 
cars and make up. I will spend the years grasping for her as she runs ahead, 
finding the delicate balance between holding on without holding her back. I know 
she will grow up. And she will be beautiful and confidant and wonderful. And I 
will miss her littleness. 
One day I will look 
back and wonder why I thought it was so hard, oh so long ago, to raise this 
child. And I will vow to myself that if I had the chance, I would do it all over 
again. Every minute.
So today, I hold this 
little babe, rocking her back and forth, back and forth. I do not take for 
granted this moment of prolonged comfort: I snuggle her into my neck, breathe in 
her scent, and lock the memory of her deep in my heart. 
Because what she 
doesn't know is that, no matter how many years go by, no matter how old she 
grows, she will always be my precious little girl
I took this from the following blog....it just so simply and accurately mirrors my own feelings and wishes for my little girl. I couldn't help but share. It's tough to be constantly mindful of what a gift she is. Words like this take me back to two years ago when I would've given ANYTHING to be up all night with my own baby. I think my new years resolution will be to continue to keep my perspective on being a mother and having the joyful and difficult task of raising this beautiful little girl.

 
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