Our first date, our first kiss, the first time we acknowledged the depth of our feelings.
The first time we called each other "husband" and "wife."
When I first gave him the news that we were going to be a family of three.
The first flutters of movement from within.
The first time we held her.
The first time I realized I was really and truly a mother.
The first time I nursed her.
Her first words, her first steps, the first time she called me "Mama."
The first time I told her she was going to be a big sister.
The first time he looked into my eyes.
The first time she kissed his tiny hands and told him she loved him.
Not the first time I have taken note of how blessed I am, and certainly not the last.