Clarity.

Around 4am this morning, I was awoken by Jaxson dancing around in his bassinet, his legs steadily and consistently pounding against the mattress. He had just eaten at 3am, so I was sure he was only restless and let him wear himself back to sleep. Throughout the next two hours I would awake to him whining periodically, blatantly refusing sleep, as was his new habit.

Now normally, I would scoop him up and rock him to sleep, but because I'm starting back to school in another week, I didn't want to make middle of the night rockings a habit, so I let him be.

But by 6am he was way past whining, so assuming he was hungry (which is odd, because he's been sleeping through nights) I wrapped him up and headed for the kitchen, sure this would be like any other morning: Jaxson eats, then stays awake and wants to play well before the sun has risen. A habit I've been trying to break

Yet, before I could groggily stumble the few steps to our chair to nurse him, he was sleeping soundly in my arms. He had wanted nothing more than his momma. Not food, or toys; just my arms wrapped around him. My heart exploded with emotions I cannot even fully comprehend nor explain. Gratitude? Love? Contentment? Thankfulness? I don't know. Something along the lines of the deepest passion I have ever felt. A warm and deep and burning admiration.

A week prior to this, Jaxson had spent the night with his grandmother. When I arrived to pick him up, she handed me him mid-feed to finish up while she packed his things up.

And I'll be damned, once he noticed it was me feeding him, he looked up at me with those big almond eyes and shot me the biggest smile, nipple in mouth as milk dribbled down his chin. He held it for a few seconds as it reached up into his eyes, then resumed eating, as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place. Maybe I'm just getting used to this whole responsive smiling thing, but I tell ya, this felt like something special. There's just something about that recognition... that moment when you realize you're a mommy and your baby knows it too.

It all makes me think back to that girl almost a year ago, sitting in a bathroom staring hopelessly and painfully at a positive pregnancy test. The same girl that cried and cried over becoming a mother, was sure her life was over, her dreams and ambitions out the window. She would never study abroad, or backpack through europe; she would never move out of that dreadful city or land her dream job. She would never be anything or anyone, just an empty shell lined with ghosts of "would have beens."

That girl knew so little of happiness.