When I held her for the first time, I studied her. I noticed her head covered in dark hair, I counted her fingers and toes, held her close to me and realized that she was MINE. I remember telling her what her name was and that I was her mommy. I carefully dressed her in her pink tutu dress, socks with roses on them, and placed her bow around her head. She was my baby girl, MY daughter.
I wasn't home half an hour when I saw fourteen year old C holding her up to his cheek, saying, "B, I love you so much". That's when I broke into tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of witnessing a miracle.
One year later, we took B and our six other children to the temple and had her sealed to us for time and all eternity. That was the best day of my life to see all seven of my children dressed in white in the temple. Now that was "Heaven on Earth".Today I noticed myself watching my two year old daughter. We wore matching colors to church today. She sat on my lap and wanted to wear my jewelry. I let her. We exchanged earrings, and I let her wear my bracelet, watch and necklace. She walked up the aisle with lip gloss in hand to see a friend. I was all smiles. She definitely is MY daughter. I had C snap this picture after church. We're beaming. We're smiling just like we did when we first saw each other two years ago. She's been nothing but joy. She's my very own little miracle.
This week I'll be reading her a new story. A bedtime story just for her. A story she'll be familiar with her whole life. A story about how much a family of five boys wanted a daughter and a little sister. A story that will let her know how much she was wanted, loved, and worth waiting for. A story that will begin, "Once upon a time..."