When I realized Colic didn't break us.

My baby Girl.

Tonight as you were pushing your car across the room with your wobbly legs, your brother grabbed the front and took off with it sending you crashing to the floor. You were hurt, and tired, and crying inconsolably. So I scooped you up and placed you on my chest and we went for a walk around the complex. You quickly settled, resting your tiny head on my chest, closing your eyes and wrapping your little arm around me. And for the first time I reflected on our first few months with love.

Don't get me wrong, the exact moment the doctor laid you on my chest was incredible. Everything about you was absolutely perfect. You were more beautiful than I could have ever imagined and I was finally holding my angel in my arms. Then you started crying, no, screaming. And you didn't stop for 5 and a half months. At the time I felt like those five and a half months were the hardest of my life. I had expected to take you home from the hospital and spend hours staring at every one of your little features. I pictured you laying in bed next to me, all nuzzled up to me, nursing yourself to sleep. I pictured taking you and your brother for walks while you coo at me from your top seat in the stroller. Then you were born and I felt like the colic had stolen all of those plans.

Instead of cuddling and adoring you, I spent every waking minute trying to settle you. Trying to ease your pain, begging you to sleep. Driving myself crazy doing any and every thing I could to get you to calm down, and stressing myself out about how horribly I was failing at every single aspect of my life in the process. But time has a way of removing the negative emotions from situations and leaving only the beauty, and tonight, for the first time, I looked back with love.

As we circled the complex with your head on my chest, I remembered those countless nights with you swaddled in your softest blanket, cradled in my arms as I sang you lullabies while we walked the block to get you to fall asleep. I pictured myself outside with you at 1am listening to the music from our neighbors playing the piano next door distracting you from your pain. I thought of you refusing to let me put you down, forcing me to sleep sitting up so we could rest even for a hour. And this time, when I looked back I didn't see any of the pain. I didn't see the frustration. I saw a mom and a daughter, navigating through this horrible pain of colic, together. Don't get me wrong, I know it was hard, it was really really hard. There was a lot of yelling, and crying and wanting to give up. I can clearly see myself crumpled in a ball on the shower floor, wondering how I was going to get through the night, but even that is beautiful.

Baby girl, our beginning was rough. But it was real, and it was beautiful. Real life isnt perfect. It can be hard. Really hard, but it is so incredibly beautiful. Those midnight walks to calm the crying, those 1am dances in the back yard to get your eyes to close, those times I broke down and cried with you from the pain neither of us could handle. Those were raw, and real, and beautiful. They weren't what I had expected or planned for, but they were ours. It was our beginning, our story, and we made it through to the part where we dance because our favorite song is on and we just have to wiggle. We snuggle while you nurse yourself to sleep before you go down for the night. We occasionally take a walk because your brother stole your car and made you crash to the floor, but normally our walks are to the park or to see the bunnies on the trail.

Baby girl, I have held so much guilt over our first few months together, I was convinced colic had stolen those first precious months of your infancy, until tonight. Tonight I can see the beauty, the love, the compassion I didn't realize I was showing, and I can finally see that we were bonding, there was love, you did need me just as much as I needed you. While I will always wish that your tummy hadnt hurt you so bad, and that we could have cuddled without the pain from the beginning, I can finally look back and cherish what we had. I vowed to love you through the hard times before I even knew your name. I will always be here for you baby girl, I will always love you.