The Days.

49 days of Squishy, the world's most amazing baby EVER. Aaron and I manage to laugh everyday, and while we bicker a fair amount (that might mean a lot) but so far we get over it pretty quickly.

My favorite thing to do with her is to take a bath. I hopped in one day last week and have bathed her like that ever since. She responds really well to lounging in the bath chair and being scrubbed down, but seems to really love it when I float her around, dunk her little bum in, and splash water over her stomach. She whines when she's ready for a warm towel wrap and cuddling. She lets me do what I want, and then makes it known she has a say.

And there are the moments as a family when Aaron and I can barely stand it. The other day he had Bright Eyes playing in his bathroom, and listened to "First Day of My Life" a few times and I could hear it as we nursed and cuddled. I started crying around the middle of listen two of the song, as the lyric "I'm so glad I didn't die before I met you" came out through the door. Aaron rolled in, and we all made a sweet memory together, as a family.

Then I explained to him something I'm not sure he had ever considered before: Without him, I wouldn't have anything I have now. I wouldn't have our little family at all. Not the puppy, not the baby, not the husband. This is the family built out of injury. What we have is maybe because of what happened in September 2011. I have to thank the worst day of my life for giving me the best days of my life. I'm not grateful for Aaron's losses, but...

When I figure that out, I'll let you know. It's a give and take on a daily basis. Acceptance is not the same as moving on. I don't think "moving on" is necessarily what happens. 918 days later... but I don't count so much anymore. Not since I began counting baby. 49 days. I wish I'd figured it out sooner.

At least I figured it out now.