Gabriella is a miracle. Her very existence is improbable, long sought, but against the odds. I think about that every day when I wake up and see her break into a huge toothless grin.
She exists. That's a miracle.
What's wonderful about our lives now is that against the backdrop of the Big Miracle, there are all these other, smaller wonders taking place. The kind of tiny, quotidian miracles that are just part of having a baby. The smiles. The growth. Seeing her focus her eyes on a toy, and then reach out for it. Watching as she squeezes a stuffed animal and tries to stuff it in her mouth. Hearing her learn how to laugh. Watching her raise her head and push at the floor with her feet.
Her little brain is developing so fast, and her wee body gets bigger every day. I swear, if I'm away from her for an hour, she looks different when I next see her. Compared to what happens around here every single day, the miracles I heard about in church growing up seem, well, kinda lame in comparison.
Walking on water? Whatevs. Gabby's wiggling puts that to shame.
Turning water into wine? Yawn. Gabby turns her parents to mush whenever she smiles.
Parting the sea? Yeah, yeah, part, schmart. My kid is grabbing at toys and she's not even three months old!
I'm overcome with a sense of wonder, and a strong feeling of gratitude. And, I must confess, not a small amount of maternal pride.
I can't help it. My kid's a miracle.