No, that is not a misprint that is supposed to say butterfly kisses.  Even better than butterfly kisses are butterfly kicks, which I have going on in my tummy right now. (!!!)  It has made me nostalgic for when Joss was a wee little one, and since I never did a re-cap of her first year, I will post some of those baby photos now.

  I have been suspicious for a week or two now that I have been feeling the littlest one, but not 100% positive.  Until tonight.  I was rocking a fussy Joss (who is currently teething) to sleep when suddenly...I felt them.  There, under my sweatshirt, and up against Joss who I was cradling.  Not just one that left me guessing, but a few in succession, as if the dear teeny thing was saying, "There there big Sis, don't cry.  Everything will be alright." 

Nothing less than a miracle. 

   Not when so many women, the whole wide world over, with every breath, ache and long for a baby to fill their arms.  God has for some unknown, mysterious reason, blessed me with one and one on the way.  Thank-you Jesus. 

   With a second baby, it sort of feels like, "Oh yea, I know this.  I've done this before." And the very next minute it's like, "What in the WORLD do I think I'm doing?!  There is ONE of me, and I'm going to have TWO?!  How is this supposed to work?"  So my emotions keep me on my toes.


   In some strange way, it also feels like the ultimate high-five from God.  Like, "Shelley, my dear child, you're doing an awesome job being Mommy to that little ray of sunshine.  Here, have another."  Which I know is faulty logic because I'm sure there are lots of people on the earth that have multiple children and don't treat them the way they should, but I just prefer to think of it this way.
  
   But my heart truly breaks for those who desperately long to be with child, and aren't.  I don't understand their pain.  I can't begin to imagine their daily battles.  The only thing I can do, is hold that thought close to my heart, and always keep it within reach.  So that whenever I'm tempted to think that life is rough, I'll be reminded that it is anything but that.  When I'm tempted to bemoan my daily duties and think, "Why me?"  I'll be reminded to think that alot of others are asking the same question, "Why God, why me?" but with such a different answer.
  
   Mothers, never ever take them for granted.  Whether you have one, or 17, don't take them for granted.  That doesn't mean loving every stain on the carpet, or skipping down the hall for every nighttime feeding, or giggling through every tempter tantrum.  Let's be realistic here: there will be hard times.  But that still doesn't mean that it's o.k. to take them for granted.  It never has been, never will be.  They are a gift straight from Heaven, and we have a short window of time with them.  Just a short window. 

   I was giving Jocelyn a bath tonight and it struck me how a "chore" like that feels more like a privilege.  I started wondering what the number of baths total I will be able to give her before she is bathing and showering on her own.  And somehow, in the space of that thought, no number seemed big enough.  I wanted more.  On the day of that last bath, if I knew (would I know?) that it was the last time EVER I would bathe her, would I throw the rubber duckie in the air and shout "Hooray, one down!"  No, I think I would want one more bath. 


   And rocking her to sleep I thought the same thing.  How many times will I get to rock her?  Until one day she just never needs that anymore.  And then she's sleeping over at friends' houses.  And coming home late from parties and barely sleeping at all.  And then getting married and sleeping at his house.  *shudder*  No, I want more. I want to rock her to sleep over and over. 


And that's why we can't take them for granted.  We can't or we will miss them.

We will blink and they will be gone and we will have missed it. 

I just can't bear the thought of that. 

Kick on, little one, kick on.