Spring is a shameless tease. Just when I think the sun is here to stay, I wake up to snow coating my car and wind blasting the fragile tulip shoots in the front yard.

So it goes in Utah where spring flirts with us well into May before finally making a commitment.

But if you look closely, you can already see the signs that winter is on its way out and spring is sneaking its way in.

Tree buds are popping up, birds are lighting on still-naked tree branches and the days are stretching inches longer into the evening.

At my grandfather's ranch in southern Utah, the foals are about to be born — an inescapable harbinger of spring and new life. My daughter was also born in the spring, so the onset of flowers and daylight savings time inevitably makes me think of my own place in the Earth's rebirth.

Two years ago she was just a soft midnight kick in my belly and a fuzzy image on an ultrasound. Then came spring and she popped into my life as suddenly as the daffodils burst open unexpectedly one day. You know it's coming, but it's always a surprise when it actually happens.

And just like that, I became part of the Earth's annual renewal.

I was no longer a silent observer of the cycle of spring, but actually played a small role in the perpetuation of life. How strange that an experience that was so intensely personal and singular to me would also make me feel like I was no more unique than any mother, baby or daffodil that had gone before.

But instead of making me feel unexceptional, I felt more divine than ever as I saw myself as part of the world's cycle.

Now, two years later, I'm not bringing life into the world, but I am experiencing a whole new set of rebirths and changes this spring. Potty training is on the horizon, and my daughter is blowing full-steam ahead into the terrible twos. I'm also feeling baby hunger creep up and wonder if it's time to add baby No. 2 to our family.

I'm also hoping to renew myself as a mom this spring — reassess all the ways I can be more patient and more loving. Just as the Earth gets a fresh start each spring, maybe I can, too.

Maybe I can make sure my husband and daughter top my priority list rather than get lost in my to-do list. Maybe I can sit on the floor more often and play games with my daughter or spend hours picking strawberries with her as she smears red across her smile.

Maybe this spring I won't just watch as life creeps back into my garden, but can give my motherhood a much-needed revival.

Because even though sometimes as a mom it seems like I'm stuck in the most never-ending, dreariest of winters, I know the snow will thaw and the spring will come. It always does – and always in the knick of time.

And when it does, I'll refortify, renew and replenish myself right alongside Mother Earth.

Erin Stewart's blog, Just4Mom, can be found Tuesdays and Thursdays at deseretnews.com.

E-mail: estewart@desnews.com