I held her while she woke.

It was twenty after seven.
I was itching to get my hands on her.
I plucked her out of bed,
Rolled her into my arms,
And we dreamed.

Steady breath, little flutters, fingers wrapped around.
Rhythmic rocking by a slippered foot.
Fleece and squeak and calm.

Sunshine attempted to rob us of our still darkness
through the cracks in the blinds.
But time did not exist,
And the sun's rising could not steal this sleeping baby from my arms.

Her soft cheek and wispy hair,
The gifts of infancy.
She's growing too fast.
So I knew I had to be the first she saw as she woke,
Eyes creased and blinking.

Elongated, rewarding stretches,
Upturned corners of her mouth.
I greeted them with a smile and a kiss.
These things I want to remember...
It makes my heart beat rapidly when I imagine forgetting these simple blessings.

Time crept in as she broke through to reality
and bid farewell to her mysterious dreams.
So our day began.

But for today,
for this moment,
I delight in the fact that it was I who again received her into the world.
The blessing of a mother.

I held her while she woke.