I gave birth twice last year. Once in January, to a boy whose heart wasn't beating, and once in December to a girl who entered the world screaming: the most beautiful sound. Last year on Mother's Day, we told you she was coming, and this year on Mother's Day, I'm happy to say that she grew and grew until she was born, and now she lives in our home, making us the parents we'd always hoped we'd have the chance to be. I love her, with an unexplainable love.
Matt made me breakfast in bed and loved me hard all day, part of which is his usual routine.
We spent the afternoon with Matt's family, eating on plan lasagna and receiving beautiful flowers. The day before, I'd gone to lunch with Matt's mother, an activity her church had thrown. Part of the lunch included sharing a special memory you have of your mother (or someone who mothered you). My mother and I don't have the same personality. She's scattered brained. I'm organized. She's giving. I'm selfish. When we started around the room, I thought through what I would say, the things I'm most thankful she did for us. My mother homeschooled us thoroughly. She stayed home with us when she could have made money and been successful outside of our home. She read chapter books to me in bed every night. She sewed me clothes. She taught me how to study, learn, and retain information. Somewhere in those first few sentences, I found myself choking up. She loved me so much. She gave me so much. But why was I choking up? After all, she's the emotional one! Turns out, we're more similar than I want to give us credit for being. I'm thankful for her. I'm thankful that she loved me with that unexplainable love.