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.