There's been a lot of smoke and rain and threatening clouds keeping us indoors lately. The murky skies keep Lucas napping for hours, and I've been left with some peaceful afternoons with little chunk. Sometimes she's awake and wants to coo and smile at me. Sometimes she wants to sleep on the living room floor while I fold laundry. She doesn't really mind what's on the agenda as long as she's next to me.
Unless it's dress up. She hates playing dress up.
Most afternoons though, there is a time when I will lay her on the bed next to me and stare at her until she falls asleep. I'll watch her chest rise and fall, her face forming half-smiles while she dreams. I'll kiss her chubby cheeks, and she'll stir, and I promise myself I'll stop bothering her, only to do it again not one minute later.
And I'm awestruck, with each breath, at the fact that she's here at all.
I remember the nonchalance with which I took the pregnancy test, so sure it couldn't be positive. I was days off the shot, and already on the pill. It was practically impossible. I remember how overwhelmed I was when I first stared at those two pink lines on the pregnancy test. I was shocked, almost in disbelief. How could this happen against all odds?
Now I feel the magnitude of those impossible odds all over again. Disbelieving that there was ever a time when she wasn't a part of the plan. Overwhelmed by my love for her. Shocked that I could ever be so lucky, so blessed.
I place a finger on her outstretched hand - she grasps, then releases.
And once again, I ask myself quietly, how could this happen against all odds?