The best birthday present

After reading stories and cuddling in bed, I told April that she was the best present a mummy could ask for. Her eyes lit up and that sneaky little smile cut across her wide open face.

“But I’m not a present,” she said giggling.

As my belly gets heavier and my bones begin to shift, I have started reflecting on what it was like when I was pregnant with April. The anticipation of the arrival of new life: for the little person who will soon be outside of me, and for all of us. April will be a big sister. I will be a mummy twice over. Our little family will simply be a family. Adventures await us.

With the pace of life with a young child and an impossible habit of working too much, I sometimes forget to stop and enjoy it. Baking a cake with a three-year old who can’t keep her hands out of the batter; listening to her recite pages from Peter Rabbit and insist on “reading”  her favourite books to me; watching her piece her world together, whether in the bathtub or walking down the street on our way home from daycare. Being a mom really is a gift, even if sometimes I’m just too damn tired to recognize it.

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