My daughter’s birthday is this Sunday, and please forgive me while a I get a little sappy right now.
It was a very tough pregnancy. I broke a toe and had to walk around with one of those special shoes, because the skin and the bone was broken, so I could get an infection at any time. I also once fell on my tummy while cleaning the tub. I went in labor when I was 24 weeks, rushed to the hospital, got a magnesium sulfate shot (which is one of the most horrible feelings I’ve ever had), she wasn’t born that night, but after that the doctor recommended that I should be on bed rest. I finally had her at 32 weeks. She was a few ounces shy from 7 pounds, and was full of hair. EVERYWHERE.
I remember going home, with my tiny little baby and an almost 2-year-old, and thinking “what now?”. I was 20. I just remember praying and asking for a lot of patience, and wisdom. I asked God to protected them and I every day so I could provide the best to them. So far, I have done the best that I can, and they are doing okay.
Yesterday, she fell asleep in my bed, and I went to try to pick her up, and couldn’t. She’s too big for me to pick her up. I was so sad, because I couldn’t help it but think of that first time I held her, how little she was and how fragile she looked. Now she does hand stands every time she can. She walks by doing cartwheels. She wrestles with her brother and wins. She isn’t fragile or little anymore, but she is still my baby. She will never outgrow my heart.
My love, I hope you become the person you want to be. I will support you no matter what, as long as it’s something that makes you happy (and it’s legal). I hope your humor never goes away. I hope our relationship continues to grow every day. I hope to make you proud as well. You’re my every day inspiration. Happy birthday, my Beans!