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Although it is a difficult time of year to celebrate a birthday (talk about competition!), having a baby at Christmas is a very special thing. With the craziness that surrounds the season, I enjoy pausing to reflect on the most beautiful Christmas gift that was given to me three years ago.

On a snowy Christmas Eve, over 8 pounds of baby came into the world unexpectedly - thanks to labor pizza at Cafe Trio, some hysterical prank calls made by my cousin Connor, and a Low pressure storm system that entered the Valley.

Her father almost didn't make it in time.  You see, he wasn't expecting this little bundle for another week or two and had decided to go skiing that day.  When I couldn't get a hold of him on the phone, my siblings drove to Park City to track him down.

And boy was he grateful they did.  Never was a man so smitten with his daughter.  In fact, I think the only time he let me hold her in the following  weeks was when I had to nurse her.

And on that Christmas day, I lay alone in a hospital bed holding my baby, just hours old, and staring at the snow falling lightly out the window.  All was calm, all was bright.  I thought, and often still do, of Mary and how she must have felt giving birth to the Savior.  What great love must have filled her heart.

And I understood God's love for His children better in that moment than I ever had before.

And now each Christmas season, amid the stress and shopping and decorating, I think about that incredible day and am reminded of the true meaning of Christmas.