Journal Excerpt

I think my favorite part of the day with her is right before her bath, when I get her naked. She adores being naked. She screams and squeals with happiness, running down the halls and around her room, little legs pumping up and down in their baby way and big belly sticking out in front of her. Her legs are so supple and still chubby; her belly is so soft, her back and bum so smooth. She likes laying her blanket over the pillows on the ground and then falling on top of them, belly down and butt in the air, and pretending I can’t see her until I suddenly tickle and kiss her all over and she laughs so hard she loses her breath. As soon as she catches it she says “more?”

When I see her lying curled up naked like that on the pillow she seems so small, so unblemished and soft. She has no scars, no stiffness, no pretense. I heard someone say once that being a mother is like having your heart walk around outside of your body. It’s something like that. It’s hard to know until you are one. Most of the time I say that in the context of complaining about something, but today I’m thinking I wouldn’t give up one minute.