It's been awhile.

I've been thinking about Audrey lately. I mean, it's kind of impossible not to because she's RIGHT THERE. ALL. THE. TIME. But I've been thinking about how she's almost 4 1/2. How crazy is that? This time next year I'll have a kindergartner. How is that possible? I can vividly remember this time four years ago. We were living in Seattle and I was mysteriously nauseous. ALL THE TIME. I was going about my life, figuring out what my next step would be, all the while knowing somewhere in the back of my head that it was all about to change dramatically. At that time there was no way I could know exactly how much everything would change, but I was excited.

I started to get my first clue that our lives would never be the same in the middle of what would be nearly four months of "morning" sickness. I saw a bit of her personality when I spent four exhausting hours trying to push her stubborn little body out into the world. She does things on her terms. I knew for an absolute fact that we were in for it when the first thing I remember about her is screaming. Not some tender moment of her warm skin on mine or how she looked into my eyes for the first time. No. From the second she entered the world (or perhaps before) she was screaming. She didn't stop until she was about four months old, and I'm convinced that it was only to take a breath and start up again. It was definitely one of the most challenging times in my life.

She's been a challenge since the second she was born. Every new stage brought a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe this stage would be easier. Nope. Never the case. Through this though, I've always known that there was a reason that my baby wasn't like the others, as frustrating as that is. While everyone around me was going on and on about how beautiful it was to be a mom and how their baby was perfect, I was wondering what I was doing wrong. It actually began to make me mad. I thought either I got the one bad baby, or everyone else was lying about how easy it was. Was mine broken? If all of these other babies were sleeping through the night and never cried, it must be me. I must not be a good mom. Why didn't I like my baby? I felt like I was going through the motions a lot of the time, and I didn't instantly bond with her. I mean, I had that moment right after she was born when I held her squishy body and thought, "Wow. That came from me." But it got harder to like this little person who kept me up every night for over a year and seemed to cry all the time. What kind of person dislikes a baby?

When I look back, I realize that it wasn't that she was crying all the time, but that she was never content. She has never been content to stay in one place or to stay in one stage. As a baby, she wasn't content until she could roll over, and then crawl, and then pull herself up on the coffee table. Finally, after four years, I'm realizing that she is me. That screaming bundle who they laid on my chest and hasn't let us rest since the day she was born is me. She is not content to settle. Every night before bed she asks me what we're doing the next day and where we're going. She'll ask it incessantly until I answer. She's always on the move, talking, running, speeding through life at a million miles an hour. She gets frustrated when she doesn't instantly learn how to do something. She's persistent to the point of being irritating. She is either asleep or awake. There is no in between. She lives in extremes. When she is happy, she's rainbows and unicorns and excitement. When she's mad, well, there are holes punched in the back of her wooden door. She can switch between the two almost faster than I can blink. She is constantly running, climbing, jumping, drawing, talking. She is explosive. She is creative. She is ridiculously observant. She is not content to let the world pass her by.

I see so much of her in me now. I didn't see it before. She has looked like her daddy up until recently. We clashed so much before that I sometimes didn't feel like she was mine. I didn't have those moments of laying in bed with her in perfectly diffused sunlight just basking in the happiness of being a mom. I just got by. But now? I have realized that of all of the times in her life, right now it what I love. It's ridiculously frustrating at times. She's four. That's a given. I see her personality shining through. She is not content to settle. She won't take no for an answer, which right now is the most frustrating thing, but in the future it means she won't just believe everything she hears. She is constantly pushing herself to be better. She is strong physically and emotionally. She is immensely empathetic. She is always thinking about what would make someone else happy. When we go to the store, she doesn't ask for a million toys for herself, instead she asks if she could please get this or that for her cousins. She finds little toys and books in her room and asks if she can put them in our box for the "Christmas kids" (Operation Christmas Child).

It's going to be a struggle, but now after four long years I can see that it's worth it. The hardest things are always the most worth it, and God knows that, just like Audrey, I'm not content to settle. She's wasn't like all of the other babies, but that means she won't be like all of the other people. I think that's a really good thing. She will be strong and independent. She won't settle, and she will do great things because of it.

"So keep your eyes set on the horizon, on the line where blue meets blue

And I'd bet that silver lining, well I know it'll find you soon..."

--1,000 Ships by Rachel Platten