Today marks the 22nd anniversary of the most amazing event of my life; the day I became a mother for the first time.
It's something of a miracle to me that I can remember every moment of her birth.
One of the lighter moments in my 21 hour labor (and it WAS labor) came seconds after her birth when my mother said, "Oh Pam, it's a boy!"
I distinctly recall laying there with my eyes closed (I was exhausted) and thinking, 'um...no, it's not a boy. I know it's a girl'
The doctor then pronounced, "Mrs. Kinnaird? You have a beautiful baby girl"
My mother's intuition was far better than any ultrasound could ever be,
They laid that tiny bundle in my arms. I can still feel her velvety soft cheeks and her wrinkled up brow. Oh how I loved. How I still love. How I will always love.
From diapers to potty training, from snuggles to teenage hormonal horrors that often left me shattered and nearly broken, I never stopped loving. I kept a Mother's Journal for her and in it I wrote that there were times I would quietly go into her room as she slept to look at her. Tears of pain and frustration running down my cheeks I would gently caress her cheek, whisper to her how much I loved her and then return to my own bed.
Parenthood is not for the faint of heart.
I'm so proud of my daughter--for her quiet strength, for her return to the strong faith in God and the gospel that she's been taught all her life but had to find out on her own the truth of it all. I'm grateful for the trials and the hardships and the heartaches.
I never stopped loving.
Thank you for teaching me unconditional love, my daughter. Thank you for leaving your heavenly home and for being loaned to me for this mortal life.
I love you. Always remember that m'ija. Always. Happy Birthday!