It hardly seems possible that, a year ago today, we met Ava. A year ago today, we came into a hospital room and saw the first glimpse of her face. Only her face, since the rest of her was tightly wrapped and a stocking cap was firmly planted on her head. A year ago today, her birthmom handed her to me and I felt the weight of her body against mine for the first time, and the magnitude of being a mother. A year ago today, I pulled that cap right off of her head so I could see what was underneath. Oodles of black curls, which made me grin and tear up immediately. A year ago today, I slowly unwrapped the blankets from around her so I could have a precious peek at those baby hands and feet, and then quickly tucked her back inside. A year ago today, I said to her, through blurry eyes and with deep conviction, "Hi, Ava. I'm your mommy." And I wondered how it was possible to feel this awestruck the third time around. But I did. And I do.
Today, she babbles to me like she's known me all along. She throws her head back and laughs at my silliness like I was put on this earth just for her. She toddles over to me with her arms up, knowing she's welcome. She cries and finds that my shoulder is a magical place that makes everything better. And knowing that one who was never at home in my body is at home in my arms, is a miracle that pays tribute to the God who can do exceedingly more than we can ask or even imagine.
Happy Birthday, precious Ava, "breath of life." On this day I celebrate God's goodness in giving you life. And am mystified by his goodness in giving me the privilege of knowing you best.
"Praise be to the LORD God, the God of Israel, who alone does marvelous deeds." Psalm 72:18