I wake up at 6:30 every morning when Isla, who is 8 months old now, starts to stir in her sleep. She wants her breakfast, but she doesn’t want to wake up yet. I let her nurse and she never once opens her eyes. When she’s finished, she rolls back over to chew on her daddy’s pillow, while simultaneously sucking her thumb, and falls back into a deep slumber. I reach for my thermometer on my nightstand to check my temperature for my ovulation chart.
I love mornings.
I get out of bed and my first order of business is to make coffee. The sound of a percolating coffee pot is one of my favorites. I peek back in on my two loves in bed. I’m never prepared for the cuteness overload that is the two of them snuggled up together. The overwhelming feeling of love gives me butterflies and I thank God.
While I’m enjoying my coffee, I check my email for coupons and work on generating new leads for my home-based business. I love feeling like I’m being productive without having to put pants on. Before I’m finished, I have to get up at least twice to heat my coffee back up to the perfect drinking temperature. If I don’t have to slurp it in with air, it’s not hot enough.
An hour and a half goes by and Isla starts to call for me. When I walk back into the bedroom, I find her grabbing her daddy’s nose and poking his arm while she whispers sweet little baby coos at him. How does he sleep through that? I tell her good morning and she quickly rolls over onto her back and starts kicking her chubby little legs in excitement, reaching for me to pick her up. I still can’t believe we made her. This was God’s plan for my life all along. We squeeze in our mommy-daughter time before Daddy wakes up.