Yesterday was my 33rd birthday. I woke up to secret sounds in the kitchen as my girls decorated the holiday table for me with double table cloths and our fanciest china. My three-year-old son came down to snuggle me. In the monitor, I could hear the baby singing in his bed.
I could never have imagined that this would be my life. In a few short weeks, we will be bringing our fifth child into this world. That is five babies in 7 years. My life is such a whirlwind of chatter and movement and song. I sat on the couch and held the baby’s perfect little hand while Rosie, Paloma, and Kells performed an original play for me called “Winter is Falling.” Watching them dance, I was transported to my own childhood, when I dressed up and sang and danced in the living room for my own Mother.
And then I thought about my Mother.
The greatest, most amazing birthday gift I have ever been given was the first. She brought me into this world. I am so thankful to her because I want to have been born. I want to live this life. I want my children to exist in this world. I want to be married to a man I love and raise a family together. After walking through my 5th pregnancy, I am more amazed than ever at the sacrifice that Mama made to carry and deliver me. God knows she didn’t have to do it again! I was the ninth, and last, child born into our family. She could have stopped with eight. Or seven. Or six. Or two. But she didn’t. And I am in the world. And so are my children. And as I look into their beautiful faces, full of joy for me on my 33rd birthday, I know it is a better place because they are traveling through it. And I am so thankful to my Mama for the gift that no one else could have ever given me.