Tomorrow evening at around 9pm, my baby girl will be three years old. How is it possible she is that old, while at the same time, how has she not been part of me all my life? Just three years seems like such a small amount of time relative to how long I’ve been alive, but so much has happened in that time. We moved to Charlotte right when I found out I was pregnant, at just six weeks along. My oldest was just a baby herself, only 21 months old at the time my second baby arrived. I’m so thankful to be out of the postpartum overwhelm and fog. There are new challenges to be faced, but as my girls grow, they’re becoming more independent and more fun. Their personalities have bloomed like the cherry blossoms outside. More is required of me emotionally now, rather than physically, which is only slightly less exhausting than midnight feedings and diaper changes. However, knowing that I have carried my last baby, I look to the future with excitement and lots of prayer at all the possibilities for their lives, as well as for my own.