As a child the frustration and aggravation we caused our parents counting down the days until Christmas or our Birthday.
And those afternoons in elementary school trying not to doze off while counting the minutes until the dismissal bell would ring.
The older I got the more I've counted my life away.
Count the years until 16 to be able to drive and be free.
Count the years until 21 to be able to drink and feel like a grownup.
Counting the months then years of the length of each relationship
Waiting to be wed.
Then counting the negative pregnancy tests over and over becoming hopeless that I would ever be able to count little toes and fingers.
Counting the tears that I shed for my husband, as the fairy tale family I dreamed of turned into a nightmare.
Counting the nights left alone, scared and waiting for him to return home.
Counting the minutes between each contraction.
Counting the moments before my miracle would arrive.
Then counting the staples in my belly where she had to be taken from my body so that we would survive.
Finally counting ten piggies and ten little fingers
Counting the hours and days daddy left us alone and scared in the hospital for him to party and drink.
Counting the paragraphs on the separation papers
Counting the steps to the court house
Counting the people watching as my romance and love was flushed away
Counting the almost endless nights praying for me and my baby
Counting her smiles, counting her wishes
Counting her Birthday's
Counting the moments I am blessed to be her mom
Counting the hours of work to be able to return home to her.
I will spend my lifetime counting.