38. Five Years

At this moment five years ago I was in a hospital bed waiting to become a parent for the first time. I dreamed of the joy her arrival would bring. I dreamed of the herd of children she would lead around my home. I dreamed of her first smile, first step, first tooth, first day of school. I dreamed of the mother I would become, of the father my husband would be to her. I dreamed of nursing her, of burping her, of watching her sleep peacefully, of cuddling her, of seeing her grow. 

Most of those dreams have come true. Some came in the wrong order, or took longer to come to fruition. Some were less glamorous than I had expected. Some are yet to happen. Some have changed and some will never be. 

My little girl is turning five tomorrow. That's half a decade of parenting fails and parenting wins. Half a decade of cuts and scrapes and bruises. Half a decade of hugs and kisses. Half a decade of tears and laughter. Half a decade of frustration and elation. For every bad there is a good. For every down, we've had an up. 

Five years may not seem very long, but to me it is endless. Five years is just the beginning. And it's going to be so much more than I dreamed.