Whenever I sit down with 
the breast pump, Sky immediately comes running over with her arms stretched out. “Skylar pumping! Skylar pumping!” she says, wanting a turn for herself. So when I’m finished I hand it over.
Life as a mom is sometimes stressful. I’m thankful for any chance I get to laugh during the day and grateful Sky gives me plenty of opportunities.
I’ve been a bit emotional lately. I suppose that’s normal when you’re nine months pregnant and spend your days chasing after a high-energy toddler. It might even be healthy considering both my father and one of my best friends recently passed away. But the times when I find my eyes filling with tears usually take me off guard. The other day I started crying because my back hurt – not from the pain itself, but because my dad struggled with intense back pain during the last year of his life and I was suddenly overwhelmed by just how awful that must have been for him.
I’ve been a little stressed too. Birth is unpredictable. You can only plan for it so much, and that’s hard for a person like me who doesn’t really like surprises. There’s also been a lot on the calendar lately, and with just a week till my due date I’m entering that phase where I want to do nothing but sleep until the baby comes. Since that obviously isn’t possible right now, I’d at least like to stay home as much as I can. Even little errands are now a major effort.
So I wasn’t looking forward to my agenda this morning – Sky’s eighteen month check-up with the pediatrician, which included two vaccines and a heel prick. Every time I thought about it yesterday I’d get this twisty, churning sensation in my stomach. With my fragile emotions, I figured I’d end up in tears right along with Sky and I was dreading it.
But I actually didn’t cry at all. The only thing running through my mind as Sky’s screams echoed through the office was this: a quick injection is better than a long, drawn-out case of the mumps. My ability to think logically in that moment shocked me. Overall, it was a rough morning, especially for Sky. She didn’t stop crying until she was asleep in her crib at home. But we accomplished our goal, checked the appointment off the list, and I was able to keep myself from spilling my wild emotions all over the pediatrician. Today, I consider that success.
Most of the country has 
been in a cold snap this week, and we’re even feeling it down here in Florida. It’s been in the twenties at night and we’ve actually been wearing coats outside, sometimes even in the late afternoon. The northerner in me loves it. It seems like weather shouldn’t make that much of a difference in my day, but I have to confess that the chilly temperatures definitely improve my mood, even if it is more work to get bundled up before we go out.
Today Skylar and I were getting ready to go to the library when I noticed she was walking around the house with her hands in her coat pockets. She looked so grown up, just casually waiting for me like a bored teenager. And as I snapped her picture, I felt this intense surge of love for her rise up inside me. A minute later I scooped her up and covered her face with kisses, even though she squealed and squirmed in my arms. I think this is my favorite part of being a mom – the random moments on an ordinary days, when I’m suddenly aware that motherhood is everything I thought it would be and more.
Whoever said girls don’t
like to get dirty obviously never met Skylar. It might change when she gets older, but for now she loves to be messy. When I let her dig in the dirt, she’s so content she actually sits still for fifteen minutes at a time. It’s a pain for me, in terms of the cleaning up part. But any healthy childhood has to include a little dirt, right?
Yesterday at our ultrasound we found out that Sky will soon have a baby brother. And today as I watched her enjoying the messy outdoors, I couldn’t help but think, “There she is… just waiting for her partner in crime.”
The other day I gave Sky a bath in the morning, then brushed her wet hair back, and got her dressed. I’d just started to get myself ready when I heard her laughing. I turned around and there she was, bouncing on her little plastic ball like she was in a Pilates class or something. I laughed with her and took a picture. 
But when I looked at it later, all I could see were the bruises on her forehead. She’s done a lot of falling lately. Sometimes her body gets going a little too fast for her legs, and if she’s holding something at the time, she doesn’t always catch herself. A couple days ago she hit the tile with her head so hard that Adam and I spent the rest of the day watching her for signs of a concussion.
Like every mom, I hate it when my baby gets hurt. And a bruised forehead is just the beginning. I wonder what she’ll face as she grows. Will kids be mean to her? Will friends reject her at some point? Will a boy she loves break her heart? What if she deals with infertility one day like I did? I suppose I should keep in mind all that the Bible has to say about adversity, that it builds character and it’s God’s way to get our attention and draw us close to him. I know those things are true of the hardship in my own life. But the mother side of me looks at my little girl and just wants to say no, no, no. Please God, let her somehow learn life’s lessons without the pain.
