On motherhood...

It started with a plus sign, exhaustion and a little nausea.

Next came the flutters, which grew into kicks, flips and punches.

Then came the big brown eyes, red hair and dimpled cheek.

The tiny lips, fingers and toes.
The smooth, soft skin.

The sleepless nights, the tears, the co-napping, the rocking, the gazillion dirty diapers, the endless kisses.

The dirty-dish filled sink, the piles of laundry, the garbage cans left unemptied.

The tasks ignored, the makeup left abandoned in the drawer, the nightly cereal dinners.

The genuine smiles, independent of gas.

The rolls.

The crawling.

The walking.

The running.

With each milestone, a new little triumph.

Brilliance, at its most pure, and at its very best.

She is the most incredible miracle I've ever witnessed.

 I will forever be grateful that Lola is mine and that I am hers.

For the privilege and blessing it is to be called "mommy."

And even on the most difficult days -- the days filled from top to bottom with tantrums, tears, bruises, sickness, battles and utter exhaustion -- I wouldn't want to be called anything else.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women who have touched our lives.

Those who have children, and those who don't.

Because if I've learned anything, it's that you don't have to have a baby to be a mother.