My love for my daughter

Most women wait their whole life for that one dream to come true... the dream above all dreams...the thing you pretend to be as a little girl, think about in highschool, and ache to be once you are "old" enough. For me that dream was to be a mommy. I remember being 3 or 4 and playing with my Cabbage Patch dolls - they each names, personalities and bed times. They were my babies. Then when my brother was born...he was my baby, only a little less obedient at times. My whole life I've wanted the experience of growing a human inside of me, feeling each kick and wiggle. I've always been intrigued by the birthing process (thus why I watched TLC's "A Baby Story" religiously every day in high school). And I've longed for the days of looking into my baby's face and just being a mom.
Last December, after losing our first baby...I thought I would be scared off by all of the pain we had experienced. I thought my desire to be a mom would fade a bit, but the opposite happened. Something inside me just screamed to be a mommy, whether by nature or by another source.
This morning as I was looking at Ava, examining every part (again) and talking with her making goofy sounds that only a mom and baby can appreciate. I got to thinking about just how natural everything feels. Changing diapers, wiping up spit up, fetching the screaming thing from its crib...they all just seem to flow for me. I love being a mom. I love going to Ava's bed in the morning and seeing her greet me with that smile like, "where ya been, momma?". I love when she has a cold and she nuzzles into my neck like I'm her medicine. I especially love that everything I do or say to her makes her smile right now - like I'm the most important person in the world. It's surreal to look at her, especially after losing one prior. My Ava Edyn...she wouldn't be here if I had gotten my way with our first pregnancy. She wouldn't be here making her silly noises, chewing on everything or focusing so hard on a toy that her eyes cross. My heart wouldn't feel this way either. I am blessed. I know that.
I love my daughter. I love the responsibility of raising her. I love how difficult the nights can be. I love how she smells, how she coos and all of her facial expressions. She is a little piece of me.
I love how being a mom changes my mind about so many things. I cry everything I see anyone else cry - no matter what the reason. My heart aches more for those who experience the loss or the long anticipation of a baby. I feel more...perhaps God intends that.