I was fortunate to spend 5 days of mother-daughter time at a cute little cottage in Michigan last week...just me, Jaime, and Baby J.! It was wonderful! I felt the baby kick for the first time, got to feel his little hiccups, and generally just relished our time together. While we were there, though, I noticed something that I can't stop thinking about. It was her hands. The first time I saw her hands, they were tiny little fists flailing about uncontrollably seconds after her birth. Later, they became the hands of a little gymnast--calloused, peeling, sometimes bleeding. Later still, when she was quite a bit older, her hands were those of a dancer...graceful and soft. But now...I watched her over and over as she rubbed her baby belly, soothing our little guy. Sometimes it seemed to be done consciously. Other times it seemed to be instinctual. Her hands are now the hands of a mother . It brought tears to my eyes.