Aveline Mae Thompson. Who is she?
She is my first born.
She is forever 34 hours and 41 minutes old.
She is her daddy’s girl – evident by her firm grasp to his finger, her reaching arms for his hand.
She is beautiful brown hair, soft skin, perfect little nose and lips.
She is a fighter – she held onto life long enough to meet our family, long enough to allow us to embrace her beauty and her presence.
She is the saving grace to our marriage; the marriage that was so incredibly broken before she was born.
She is unconditional, powerful, eternal love.
She is the center of mommy’s entire universe.
She is a kicker – at just 24 weeks she was jabbing my sides and my ribs wither her feet anytime I attempted to sit still.
She is a nursery in our home, complete with her crib, her picture, and two chairs where mommy and daddy sit to write and talk about her.
She is a garden behind our house, full of color, life and wonder.
She is a tiny pink dress, a yellow knit hat, a scent unlike any other.
She is perfect fingernails and long eyelashes.
She is the little girl that I will spend the rest of my life talking about, honoring, cherishing.
She is the deepest pain I have ever known, but also the greatest joy I have ever experienced.
She is a piece of my heart, forever intertwined in my soul.
She is, in so many ways, my imagination, my hopes and my dreams.
She is the child I held in my arms as she entered the arms of Jesus.
She is the child that tore my heart wide open, but filled it with so much love.
She is my constant thoughts, my endless prayers.
She is a tattoo on my arm, a pendant around my neck.
She is any feather that falls into my path.
She is a pink balloon in the sky.
She is a blanket and a teddy bear I fall asleep with each night.
She is the best parts of Ryan and I, perfect in every way, innocent and lovely and terribly missed.