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  • Tara Darby Rasheta

Christmas in July


When I became pregnant with my first daughter I remember feeling overwhelmed with all the things I needed to know. All the books to read. All the shopping to complete. All the preparations to be done. And in the midst of that hustle and bustle, people just seemed desperate to impart unsolicited wisdom. My best friend, Cristina, was also pregnant at the very same time. I'll never forget her mother telling us, "When you have your children, it's like Christmas every morning." At the time I wasn't quite sure what she meant. But now I think I know and I'm so glad she told me this.


Over the Summer, our children were particularly early to rise and either one or both of them were usually up before me. Now that school is in full swing our schedule has changed. But when those warm little feet hit the wood floor below their beds and I hear the pitter patter coming down the hall, it sounds like the heartbeat of our home. They peak around the corner of our bedroom door, with heads all a mess, eyes still slits, bodies still warm from being cozy under covers. And I think to myself, "this feels like Christmas morning." Every morning.


Each night I go to bed exhausted but with great expectations of the next day, what I hope to accomplish and what I want to enjoy. And every morning I get to watch my wishes and dreams come true over and over again. My girls are the greatest prize, the most perfect gifts. They are my motivation, my strength, my promise to myself to do everything within my power to continue to beat cancer so that I can enjoy more Christmas mornings.

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