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I've been spending the majority of the last few weeks holding my baby. Sometimes, when I look around at the disarrayed mess that has overcome my home, I feel disappointed in myself for not taking better care of the laundry and the dishes... but then I simply remind myself, "she's not going to be this little for long." And I don't feel bad because I've been holding my baby. I don't know what she'll be like when she gets older; I constantly hear mothers with toddlers expressing how sad they are because their child doesn't like to cuddle with them anymore. It makes me grateful for this little baby of mine that loves to be held. Maybe that will change... but maybe it wont. Nevertheless, I'm going to hold her while I can.

I hold her while she sleeps so I can keep her safe and warm. I hold her while she's awake so I can enjoy her sweet little smiles. I hold her when she's happy and I hold her when she's sad. I hold her as much as I can because she loves to be held. And I hold her because I love having her close to me. I carried her within my womb for nine whole months and sometimes, when she's not nestled in my arms, I miss her. Taylor laughs at me because sometimes I miss her even when she's only a couple of feet away from me. But, if you think about it, a couple of feet can seem pretty far for two people who were so close for such a long time. 

I love this little baby of mine more than I could ever find a way to express through words alone. And the most magical part of it all is the way that she loves me right back. 


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