Practice.

Dolls of all shapes and sizes lined my bedroom walls. They were all my babies and they would each have their turn as my favorite. I was their mommy. I dressed them, fed them. rocked them, loved them. Even through several misguided attempts to cut and style their hair, they trusted me. They were mine.

Years went by and my friends were getting interested in different things, but I still played with my babies. Something in me couldn't turn away. I loved the role play and comfort that it brought me.

I don't know exactly when and how I left them behind, but eventually I was busy doing other things...playing sports (which I hated) or reading Nancy Drew. My obsession with dolls became a distant memory.

Until last night.

My boys were in the living room watching Star Wars so Loulabelle and I curled up in my bed with her American Girl catalog. We poured over each page and talked about each outfit and doll. The familiar satisfaction of playing with my babies swelled in me.

It was then I realized that all those years were spent in practice for this moment. In an instant, I realized that all my dreams have come true. I spent my childhood practicing for them, for my boys and my girl.

I scooped her up in my arms and let that realization sink deep into my heart. As I held her, I whispered in her ear that I hope her dolls mean as much to her as mine did to me. That she will be using them as practice for her real babies someday. I kissed her sweet cheeks and told her that she was going to be the best mommy in the whole world.

And don't want to miss a moment in between.