Tuesday, March 24, 2009

She's Like Sunshine On a Cloudy Day

My girl.

Born seven (gulp!) years ago today. Well, tonight, actually. Labor with her was long and hard. Not fun at all, but what you'd expect when there's a 9 1/2 pound baby in there!

Men, look away for a minute, if you will, while I indulge in memory lane...

The night before she was born, it was imperative that I organize all of our bank statements from our five years of marriage. It just had to be done. I was manic, and could not stop until every single statement was found, and put into order by month and then year.

Her little nursery, all pink of course, was ready and waiting. Had been for some time, if the truth be told. The minute we found out she was a girl, we painted it pink. I remember dancing in the elevator after the ultrasound confirmed what I knew in my heart: my princess was on her way.

I went to bed late that night, but didn't sleep much. I woke up throughout the night, uncomfortable and sore. Around 5:45 I felt something I'd never felt before. It sounds silly, but it literally felt like a balloon popped inside me. And then there was some wetness. I told Hubs, "I think my water just broke." Then I sat up, and there was waaaaaay more than wetness. It was gushing. The font was flowing. "Yep. My water just broke." He ran to the bathroom for a towel, and I hobbled in there, trying to let as little get on the floor as possible. I remember just looking at him and thinking, "What do I do???" I finally just had to sit on the toilet, in my jammies, until it stopped. Then I showered and got dressed, and we went to the hospital. I had already been there twice with false labor, but this time I knew they wouldn't turn us away. We were coming home with a baby!

Once we got to the hospital, I found out my OB was just coming off a 24 hour shift, and would not be delivering Christian. Ugh! I really wanted to keep the number of people familiar with my nether regions as small as possible, but I guess that wasn't going to happen. Hubs and my SIL were the only people I let stay for the big event, and only after they both swore they wouldn't peek at my goods.

It was really slow-going. I was there for 12 hours before she was born. We got there at 6:45 am, and she was born at 6:54 pm. My brother was the first person to be allowed in, only because he'd been hanging around waiting to see her before he sped to Houston to pick up my mom at the airport. Christian had just been born, and the doctors and nurses weren't through with me, but I asked that they stop for a minute so my brother could come see her before he left. He came in and walked straight over to me and started crying and hugging me. I asked him, "Don't you want to see your niece?" Through tears he said, "I'm just so proud of you. I just love you." We hugged and shared a moment, then he went to look at Christian and get a picture of her to take to the airport so my mom could see her.
Incidentally, Hubs cried the most of all. Maybe he was seeing all the hunting and fishing he would be giving up over the next eighteen years. Maybe he was envisioning her wedding day, or all the boys he was going to go toe-to-toe with. He was in love, though. We all were. Still are.
It was the hardest, most painful thing I've ever gone through in my entire life. I'm pretty sure the epidural wore off, because I felt everything. And I do mean everything. I felt like my body was on fire, ripping in half. I decided I'd never, ever do that again...
I know many people would scoff at my saying she's all grown up at seven, but that's how I feel. It just doesn't seem like she should be that old, or as independent as she is. I still see her like this:
Two years old and chubby-cheeked.

She's grown into such an intelligent, compassionate, kind and beautiful girl. She has to read to me every night for homework, and each time she does, I'm amazed at the words she knows. When she knows someone is hurting, she hurts for them. She reads to her little brother, too, which is just about the sweetest thing I think my mommy-heart can take. Here she is, holding him the day he was born.
This was her first dance class. She was four, and I was pregnant with Cullen. We didn't know he was a boy, so to her, he was "Strawberry Shortcake."
First day of school, K-3
First day of school, K-4
She's been wanting some cowgirl (not cowboy; there's a difference!) boots for a while now, so we got her some for her birthday. Along with some jeans to fit over them. I know boots and jeans aren't the most coveted gifts on a seven year-old's list, but she didn't act disappointed. I'm pretty sure she was, though. But she's like that. She oohed! and aahed! appropriately, even though I could tell she was hoping for something with Barbie on it.

My girl.

Just the sweetest thing ever. I love her so much it hurts.

Happy Birthday, baby girl.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

i cannot believe it has been 7 years since i did not have someone to boss me...i love her to pieces.. she is the number one grandchild and no one can take that away. hope she has a great day today and HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY COWGIRL..LOVE YA LOTS PAPAW AND GRANDMA---GLAD YOU HAVE A GREAT FAMILY TO LOVE YOU...YOU ARE A KEEPER..maybe mil

Kelsey said...

Ditto to the "I love her to pieces" comment!!!!! She is absolutely adorable and sweet and funny and oh so precious. Please give her a big Happy Birthday Hug for us!

Best S.I.L. said...

Hey girl!! We called and left a message last night! We figured you were out and about with the new cow"girl" boots!! Love you guys!!