Joy is  . . .

Having two daughters, and not remembering the pain of birth,

Breast-feeding and loving every minute of it,

The feel of pudgy fingers on my face,

That feeling you get when your newborn grips your finger for the first time,

The awareness on your newborn’s face when she first sees you,

The sweet, sweet smell of just plain baby.

The indescribable feeling you get from just holding your baby,

The rapid beating of your heart as you gaze at your sleeping infant and realize you are responsible for this little person,

That smile on your face when you think of  . . .

The smell of and feel of  “real diapers” washed in Ivory Snow;

The anxiety attacks you get when you can’t quiet a fussy baby

Being able to distinguish between a “real smile” and “gas,”

The day you finally figure out that you must sleep when the baby sleeps, no matter what.

The feeling of panic when you have to return to work,

The thousand times you reach for the phone during the day to check on “your” baby

The surprise visits made to the caretaker even though you “trust her”

Doctor visits and preventive vaccination First needles.

Being bone tired, but not that tired.

The first day of school and you don’t think you can leave her,

Turning your back when she screams she wants to go with you

Trying to hide tears that don’t want to stop,

Breathing a sigh of relief when the first day of school is finally over.

Watching those two “beautifully daughters” over the years emerge as adults;

The feeling of pride when you share in their accomplishments,

Wanting only the best for your girls and praying constantly for their safe passage through life,

Being with them when they present you with the second greatest gifts in the world,

Watching the arrival of new life in the form of my grands, first a girl, then a boy

Going through those same precious moments with my daughters, learning to be moms,

Being included in the lives of those percious ‘little people” but this time looking through eyes a little wiser;

Joy is. Joy is  . . .  the first time your grandchild says, “grandma”.