I have six. They don’t know it. To them, with me, they are the only one. Not sure how it happened, but I have six that are one.

Nobody told me what was ahead on my motherhood journey. They couldn’t. How could they know? This is a climb that has to be experienced in order to truly understand. What will it be like tomorrow? What's up ahead? What will happen along the way? Even though I couldn't see, my trust has always been in Him.

I have chosen to spend the past nineteen years completely devoted to them. Daily sacrifices that I have made for them were an honor. I wouldn't change a thing. Along the way I have found some random truths. Sometimes they don’t like car seats. And for some reason a stinky mood is more contagious than the common cold. I have also found that nursing a baby in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep, brings a sort of quiet celebration. 

It’s a climb. It’s the kind of climb that has required getting dirty. I have found that most has been needed of me when I have felt I had the least to offer. This is when the magic begins. I have seen the beauty, and listened to the laughter that only a child can share. I have felt a warm baby wrapped in a towel after a bath, and seen a toddler run to me to be held in my arms.

Farther along now, I have had the privilege to sneak a peek. I've had a glimpse at the wonder. As if the blessings along the way weren't enough, God has more ahead. You wouldn't believe it if I told you.

My oldest son just came in to check on me, with a coffee in hand. He knew I had a rough day. He asked if I was okay, picked up my youngest from my lap, cuddled her in his arms, and left me in peaceful quiet. I have six. I am one. I'm outnumbered, and it's good.