By Erica Withrow 
In the early hours of the morning, I hear a door close. From many mornings before, I know what will happen next: the pitter-patter of little feet, the feeling of someone crawling into bed and asking me to share my pillow. Most mornings, I am still asleep when you come in, but I am anticipating you this morning.
I open the covers, and you fall into my arms like you have a million times before. We fit together perfectly as we cuddle under the blanket. You are wearing only a diaper and a white T-shirt. It was a warm night, and you boycotted your pants. Somehow, this is the cutest outfit you have ever worn. As usual, your long, curly hair is a mess and covers half your face.
The days are getting longer, and the sun is rising earlier, so I can see you in the early morning light while your dad and brother snooze away next to us. I often resent these early morning wakings, but today, I am immediately grateful for this rare, quiet moment when the world is still, and it’s just me and you. The thought organically pops into my head: You were my dream.
I soak in this moment. I stare into those blue, beautiful eyes I know so well and shower you with kisses. You can feel the love in this moment too, and you tell me in your cute toddler voice that I will miss so much one day, “I love you so much.” You wrap your skinny little arms around my neck and squeeze me into a hug as tight as you can. I look at you again and think: You were my dream.
My heart still remembers when you were nothing but a dream. A dream I hoped, and prayed, and cried for. A dream I wasn’t sure would happen. A dream I always knew I wanted but never knew quite how much until it was a possibility it might never come true. A dream that became more important than anything that came before it. A dream of beauty, and joy, and the most selfless, powerful love I could imagine.
It has been everything I could have imagined and more. It has also been challenging, painful, and transformative. Loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done—as easy as breathing—but the transformation into motherhood is difficult.
Going from selfish to selfless, digging deep for more patience than I ever thought possible, teaching and modeling, and growing something from nothing. The constant demands on your time and energy, lack of sleep, or the frustratingly contradictory feeling of wanting to protect you from but also prepare you for the world in front of you. The anxiety about keeping you safe and worrying I am not doing enough, that I am not enough. Through it all, it is without question the most rewarding, fulfilling thing I will ever do. It’s all worth it because I remember: You were my dream.
I don’t want this moment to end, but I can tell you are starting to get restless, ready to start your day filled with play, snacks, and the joy of life you share with us daily. I want to remember this quiet morning moment forever. More importantly, when I start to get stressed, worried, or swept up in the busyness of day-to-day life, I want to remember: You were my dream.
When I run out of patience and feel exhausted from the demands of diapers and chores and always being on, I want to remember this gentle but intense feeling of gratitude. You were my dream.
I am so blessed and grateful to live that dream with you every day. Early morning wakings, diapers, tantrums, potty training, endless laundry and dishes, toys everywhere, questioning every decision I make, sacrificing my time, energy, and body. I am grateful for all of it because you were my dream.
It’s also more love and joy than I could have ever imagined, more laughter and silliness every day that I didn’t know my life was missing. It’s dancing in the kitchen, taking the time to appreciate the calming beauty of nature, and seeing the wonder of the simplest things through your eyes. It’s getting in touch with my inner child and healing wounds I forgot were there.
It’s about relearning who I am and having more conviction than ever before to be the best version of myself. It’s having more gratitude for what I have now and a feeling of immense abundance even though the material items of wealth are much less. It’s the new understanding of the undeniable and miraculous beauty of becoming a mother and wanting to know God for the first time. It is everything because you were my dream.
by Kelli Bachara 
by Courtney Devich 
