Seven whole years have passed

. . . since the day I first saw your big brown eyes.

I'll never forget that day seven whole years ago. I started having contractions on November 21st but they were sporadic and totally manageable. I knew you were coming but I didn't tell anybody yet.

After the sun set I told Daddy that I was going for a walk. Our neighborhood was full of extra people in for the holiday. The houses were lit and I could hear laughter and joy in many that I passed.

On that walk I talked to you. I told you how much I loved you. I told you how anxious I was to meet you. I told you to be patient with us as we made the transition of having you -- a new baby; a new person; a new sister -- in our family. I told you that it was Thanksgiving and what that meant. I told you that I was ready for you when you were ready to join us. And, I told you that this Thanksgiving I was extra grateful for you.

Seven whole years ago I went back home after that walk and told Daddy that you were coming. We started timing the contractions and called Nana to tell her that we would probably be going to the hospital sometime in the night. Nana came to stay with your sister.






Seven whole years have passed since we arrived at the hospital in the wee hours of the morning on Thanksgiving.

Seven whole years since the doctor asked if your Daddy wanted to deliver you.

Seven whole years since he did.






Seven whole years have passed in the blink of an eye.

And I'm just as grateful for you today as I was seven whole years ago.

Happy Birthday Licious.

Thank you for sharing your inexplicable joy and contagious giggle with us everyday. Thank you for your spontaneous dance performances and wide eyed beautiful grins. Thank you for your thirst for knowledge, appetite for competition and zest for life. Thank you for your newly contrived yoga poses (can you say downward facing dog while brushing your hair?). Thank you for reminding us about simple things we sometimes forget . . . like how the wind feels on your cheek and how little bubbles float up your body when you jump into a swimming pool.

And, thank you for being my daughter.

Love,
Mom